Getting Somewhere
by randomcat23
Summary: What if the trip to rescue Beth had been successful? What if instead of despairing in failure, Daryl carries Carol out of Grady Memorial Hospital and the victory leaves both of them with a renewed sense of hope? It's nearly 600 miles from Atlanta to Richmond. Along the way, Carol and Daryl finally get a chance to start over. Ensemble fic, but Caryl focused. Beth/Noah also featured.
1. 0 Miles

**Disclaimer:** Nope, I don't own The Walking Dead.

* * *

 **0 Miles**

Someone should be dead.

Maybe one of the cops, caught in the crossfire during the exchange.

Maybe Beth when she stuck her chin out defiantly and declared that Noah was leaving too.

Maybe Daryl, for the chill-inducing glare he shot at the officers just before he reached out to her.

Someone should be dead.

Instead, the hospital hallway was alive with their footfalls and the squeaky wheels of Carol's chair. No wounds left bloody trails in their wake. No curses were slung at their backs. All were accounted for, all were safe.

Carol could not blame drugs for her delirium. Over the last hour the painkillers had trickled out of her system and now her blood throbbed. Every bump in the tile brought on another flinch. She wiggled her toes and pinched the uninjured skin on her hand to test her consciousness. Rick's commands sounded legitimate. There was no mistaking the scarred hand that reached down to brush her shoulder or the comfort the small caress brought. All of it was so very real.

Still she felt she was in a fog. Her ears rang. Her eyes narrowed at every change of light, every shadow, trying unsuccessfully to find holes in this reality. The impossibility of their survival had her head spinning.

Someone _should_ be dead, but _nobody_ was.

When Carol joined Daryl on his quest to rescue Beth, she had determined it a meaningless and dangerous effort. A missing girl? She had swallowed a frustrated scream the moment he jumped into the car to give chase; he should have calculated how low the odds were for Beth's survival! Who was to say that whoever took her hadn't already killed her? Who knew if this car was even related to the same group? Disappearing for one day was dangerous enough, but the girl had been gone for weeks. Doubtful, Carol had gone along expecting the end result to be bloody and devastating.

Now, that missing girl was smashing Carol's doubt and leading them all out of this hospital.

Ahead, Beth pushed open a door and the group crowded into the stairway landing. At the sudden halt, Carol's musings paused. All eyes went to the young teenager.

"We have four flights till the bottom," Beth whispered, bumping her cast against her leg as her eyes flickered to Carol.

Carol blanched at the concrete descent. Just the idea of leaving the wheelchair rattled her bones. Everyone else silently pitied her; Rick peered over the edge with a frown and Tyreese winced before looking away.

"We'll carry her," Rick decided.

"No need!" If they could defeat the odds and rescue Beth, she could make her way out of this hospital. Carol clenched the armrests for a second before tightening her muscles in an effort to ease herself up. The railing looked solid enough and Daryl would be there to lend a shoulder. Worst case scenario, if her legs gave out she could make her way down on her bottom, one lurching step at a time.

She didn't get to move more than an inch. Daryl slid one arm under her calves, another behind her back, and lifted her. A swift kick sent the chair rolling backwards. Sparks flashed in front of her eyes with the abrupt movement.

At her weak whelp Daryl stalled and asked, "Ya good?"

All the pain in her body rushed to her shoulder, her hip, and her leg. Teeth clenched, she began counting, waiting for the sharp stabs to decrease to throbs. Stiff fingers dug into his shirt on the count of six. The pain slowly ebbed and spread back out into a full body ache. Finally, Carol blinked away the lingering spots, met his worried gaze, and nodded.

Without looking away from her, Daryl sent everyone downstairs with a jerk of his chin. Sasha pushed past Noah, asking hushed questions about what laid ahead. Tyreese and Beth followed, disappearing quickly. They soon yelled back an "All clear." Rick carried the rear, bobbing his head slightly at Daryl before heading down the steps.

Just as Rick's footsteps began to fade, Daryl swayed slightly, sucked in a ragged breath, and touched his forehead to hers. "This ain't gonna be easy on ya. Ready?"

Carol wrapped her arms around his neck, the skin there slick with sweat, and was instantly calmed by his pulse under her palm. Despite the upcoming difficulty and pain, she grinned at him.

Somebody should be dead, but no one had perished.

She curled her nose into his collarbone, inhaled the smell of him, and willed her erratic heart to match his steady one. "Let's get out of here."

"Hang on."

He marched down to the exit, lower, lower, and lower. Once Daryl started his descent there was no hesitation in his movements, no signs of labor except for how his usually silent steps echoed up and down the stairway shaft with her added weight. At every half floor he whispered their progress encouragingly, his breath teasing the hair at her temple. Even though each bounce prodded her injuries, somehow Carol's energy increased.

By the time they reached the bottom, she could hold her head up again. Tyreese braced the door open as they burst into the sun blinking and a small parking lot, surrounded by the defensive stances of the group.

Rick counted heads and gestured toward the street. The door slammed behind them, the final toll on the entire situation. As they all hustled across the concrete to the fence, footsteps rushed in their direction from just out of sight. Rick signaled them all to a halt and raised his gun. Daryl eased Carol down gingerly. In a swift movement he looped a supportive arm around her waist and drew his pistol. She steadied herself against him.

The mystery person stirred and gravel shot out from a misplaced foot. Rick's finger fidgeted over his trigger. From behind the dumpster, Maggie stumbled into view, eyes wide in disbelief. She was followed shortly by Glenn and Michonne.

"Beth?"

It took mere seconds for recognition to process and then the Greene sisters sprinted to each other. Tears and embraces followed. Beth disregarded her cast and threw her arm wildly around her sister again the second after they had parted. The entire group relaxed and soaked in the joy. Rick holstered his gun and clapped Glenn on the back. In hushed tones and muted gestures, he explained the situation to Michonne.

Carol took in the scene from Daryl's shoulder with teary amazement. The missing little girl had been found and returned; their group was whole again. For the last time, she shook away the persistent and ugly thought: Someone should be dead.

 _"But no one is."_ Overwhelmed, Carol reached for Daryl and he took her offered hand without hesitation. Her throat tightened as Michonne and Glenn embraced Beth.

After banishment, after the prison's destruction, after Lizzie, the idea of hope had disintegrated into a relic of the past. What good was hope when death and failure were much more likely than success? That conclusion was incorrect, the proof beaming right before her. Rejuvenated, Carol no longer felt as if her losses were swallowing her whole.

Despite the pain and her buckling knees, she broke out into a chuckle. "I was wrong," Carol declared with a small grin. "Maybe we still do get to save people."

Daryl shifted his weight and caught her just as she staggered. The corners of his mouth tweaked upward even as he lifted her with a grunt. Pride flickered in his eyes, but in the end he cracked, "Was afraid I lost ya. Again."

Carol just about burst into tears, knowing she had almost left him of her own volition. That crossed car driving by had disrupted what surely would have been her biggest mistake. Trapped by circumstance, she went into Atlanta with him to rescue a girl, but Beth wasn't the only one who was saved today. Carol no longer recognized that woman from just days ago.

She cupped his jaw and reminded him, "Nine lives, Pookie."

The old joke and name drew a watery snort from him. "More like six at this point," Daryl warned, his voice low. Crumpling, he nuzzled her palm and began moving toward the fence. "Can't have ya losin' more."

His shirt absorbed her first tears, the next she quickly wiped away. "Hey, I still have more than half, right?"

"Right," Daryl agreed with a conceding huff.

Carol poked his chest lightly and proclaimed, "Let's make good use of them then."

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 **Author's Note:** Hey, thanks for reading! There will definitely be more. It's a long road to Richmond, after all. Feedback would be awesome!


	2. Quarter Mile

**Disclaimer:** Nope, not mine!

This one takes place right after the previous chapter.

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 **.25 Miles**

With the streets nothing better than trashed warzones, they were lucky they got the vehicles as close to Grady Memorial as they did. Healthy, Carol could have held her breath and hustled across the distance before her lungs failed. Injured and in Daryl's arms, it took eight times as much breath and five times as long.

The murmur of her family worked a balm over her aches, their footwork and raised weapons, a barrier she relaxed behind. Daryl lurched and swayed with the uneven ground, dipping into potholes to reduce the shock for her. Here and there, his arms stiffened and he straightened his neck to scrutinize the area for any potential danger. Once satisfied, he returned his attention to the woman he held; his long looks and caresses had her blushing and shivering the entire trip.

Michonne led the way, slicing the few walkers that wandered too close. They made a sharp turn down an alley and sprinted toward the sound of a running engine. At the other end Abraham, Rosita, and Tara waved them to the open vehicles.

Daryl wasted no time in finding a safe spot for Carol. He handled her like glass, sliding her into the seat of a car, hands never resting anywhere like her ass or waist for a second longer than necessary. Smirking, Carol let her fingers trail down his retreating arms and eased into the seat.

"Be right back," he promised and pushed on the car door with barely enough pressure to latch it shut. After one more glance over his shoulder, he joined the others in a few strong strides.

Carol watched Daryl retreat into the commotion. Rick had produced a map, which sent Abraham into a wild set of gestures, fingers jabbing at buildings, down the street. Glenn quickly offered his two cents which seemed to calm the ex-military man. All together they exchanged information, hands on hips, as Tyreese, Michonne, and Tara walked the perimeter.

While they continued to discuss the group's next destination, Carol tried to determine her own course. The car was an oddly appropriate place to do so; just weeks ago she had cried in a similar vehicle and desperately tried to piece together a plan. Where should she go? How would she get there? This time, however, she didn't have to do it alone.

Carol cautiously crossed her arms and began tapping a soft rhythm into her upper arm. From her vantage point, she caught Daryl tossing looks in her direction as he paced behind Rick's shoulder. She hummed in thought.

Daryl had said they needed to start over. She chewed on the tantalizing idea. Simply nip the bad bud and pick up right where the good had left off. An easy and clean reset button back to the days of confident leadership and casual flirting.

Carol smiled at the memory, but her pragmatic side instantly shredded the nostalgia to bits; she was _not_ the same woman from the prison. All her troubles did not disappear just because Daryl had plucked her up from that wheelchair or because Rick allowed her back into the group.

No amount of jokes and promises about extra lives would overcome those pains. If she really wanted to make the most out of this life and move forward, she would have to address what gnawed away at her heart.

Her mind heavy with dark memories, she dropped her forehead to the window. By the time Daryl opened the other back door, her anxious breath had clouded the glass.

He cocked his head slightly at her huddled mass. "Alright?"

"I'm here." It came out timidly.

The car shook as he shifted closer. "Can stretch out if ya want," Daryl offered, nodding toward her knees and then patting his own.

She shrugged.

Concern deep on his brow, Daryl combed through her hair to check the road burn hidden there. After a few small huffs, Daryl licked his lips and dug out a pill bottle, fingers clumsy on the lid. "Beth had these, said they should help."

As he squinted at the label, Carol closed her eyes, drew in a deep breath and blurted, "I don't know if I can start over."

Daryl's hand stilled mid-twist over the lid.

Pulse pounding, Carol grabbed his wrist. "I...want to. I want to start over," she repeated, gaining confidence as his shoulders relaxed. "But starting over feels like I have to forget what happened. And I can't."

"What do ya need then?" He turned fully to face her, eagerness coming off him in waves.

She faltered, tripped up by the shear amount of what she felt required to share. Carol tore at her lip to keep it from trembling. "To...I need you to know everything...I..."

Her explanation was cut short by a shadow passing over the window and accompanying chatter. A door on another vehicle slammed shut. Plans apparently made, the group was ready to depart. Maggie and Glenn approached the car, their hands now hovering over the door handles.

There was a click of an unlatched door. Carol deflated with a frustrated sigh, "Never mind."

"Hey." Daryl guided her to look at him with the softest stroke along her jaw. "Rest," he insisted and cut off any protest with a quick headshake, "Ain't goin' nowhere." To settle it, he buckled himself in the seat next to her just as the door opened. He then pressed a pill into her palm. "We'll talk later."

She gaped at him, but quickly scolded herself for being so surprised. Eased by his pledge to finish the conversation, Carol swallowed the medicine. Eyes shining, she whispered, "Thank you."

Their travel companions flopped into place, obvious of their interruption. "We're going to Richmond!" Glenn announced and turned the ignition.

Daryl and Carol raised their eyebrows and blinked at their driver.

"It's Noah's hometown," Maggie shrugged with a laugh. "Stopping outside the capital is probably a good idea anyway."

"Hope you guys are comfy back there," Glenn mused, gently pressing the gas pedal. A piece of gravel popped under a tire as they turned onto a main street.

"'M fine," Daryl rumbled. With a small dip of his chin, he glanced at Carol expectantly.

Carol estimated the distance and the time, slowly accepting the circumstance. While privacy on a road trip with fifteen other people would be hard to come by, she was heartened by the fact that there were hundreds of miles between Atlanta and Richmond. All to be spent tucked in a backseat with him.

Reassured, she found Daryl's hand to give it a squeeze. "Richmond sounds good to me."

* * *

 **Authors Note:** Thanks for reading! Titles are given in mileage that they've traveled. I had to rename this one to "Quarter Mile" because apparently a period can't be in the title.

As a general-ish guideline, they will travel about 40 miles a day. The pacing will vary, but that's more or less how it will go. I found a timeline of the series online and it said it took them approximately two weeks to reach Richmond.

Reviews are love!-randomcat23


	3. 20 Miles

**Disclaimer:** Nope, nope. I don't own The Walking Dead.

Special thanks to all reviewers! :D

* * *

 **20 Miles**

Nothing but a weak stutter warned them before the truck stalled out and they had no choice but to pull over and fix it. They weren't far from Atlanta; if Carol climbed onto the roof of the car, she could probably glimpse the Sun Trust Plaza, grey in the haze. The stink of the city prevailed on the soft breeze. The hoards of walkers had stood hundreds thick and probably had followed their vehicles out of the city limits even with their crafty maneuvering.

There wasn't much time to waste on a finicky fire truck.

In hopes of catching a gust, Carol had nudged her door open with her toe, and then like an outsider looking in, watched her family enjoy this hopefully short, but necessary, break from travel.

Most of their supplies were stashed in the truck; Daryl was over there now, refilling their water bottles. Tara smacked Carl lightly when he tried to take more than his one allotted snack ration. A dropped wrench clanged on the ground and Glenn chuckled at something Eugene said. The curses that came from under the hood could only belong to Abraham. Even the guards, Rosita and Tyreese, added commentary, their guns ready, but relaxed in their arms. Carol laughed then frowned at how lonely she sounded.

She shifted nervously.

It had been easy with Daryl. Glenn and Maggie too. Their first night, Maggie had escorted her behind a tree so she could safely relieve herself. On the walk back, Maggie had clasped her hand and said, "I'm so glad you're here." Somehow, the pressure around her fingers and the light in Maggie's eyes conveyed both knowledge of the reason for her banishment and acceptance. Carol had returned the gesture and whispered, "Me too."

It was proving much more difficult to reestablish a bond with everyone else, separated by vehicles and her drug induced sleep cycle. Her craving for the old familiarity at the prison ate away at her constantly.

Those thoughts were at the forefront of her mind when Beth emerged from the other car after unclasping Noah's hand from hers with a coy smile. She accepted a water bottle from Tara and then turned to walk over. Carol perked up and greeted her with a brief, but hearty wave.

"Hey, I forgot I had these in my pocket." The teenager shook a bottle. "Oxycodone can really...slow your system down. These fiber chews should help." She wrinkled her nose in thought.

"Thank you." Carol took the bottle and ignored the self-pitying thought that Beth had only approached her with medicine in mind.

"You're welcome!" Beth tossed her head and leaned against the car, overthrowing Carol's assumption that she would leave. Carol instantly relaxed.

Before them, Rick mindlessly bounced Judith in his arms as he swept around the truck with Daryl. The wind blew just right, cutting off their conversation from Carol's ears. She sighed and rolled her neck to get a better look at Beth. Part of her was eager to fill the silence and part of her just didn't want to be left alone. "I never got to thank you for saving me."

Cheeks pink, Beth picked at the edge of her cast. "Anybody here would have done the same." She then nodded in Daryl's direction, more confidently. "Besides, Daryl's the one who got us out, Michonne said so."

Carol hummed through pursed lips. "Still, you put a lot at risk, helping me." The toxic hospital environment had been evident even in her fleeting minutes of consciousness. She did not know all the details, but the stitches glaring on Beth's skin spoke volumes about the struggles there. Carol insisted, "You didn't have to."

Beth whirled at her, eyes wide with shock. "Of course I did! That's what we do!" Her voice trembled with conviction. "I should be thanking _you_ , Carol. You came with him to get me."

Taken aback by the turn in discussion, Carol shrugged and rubbed her arm absently; this was the girl she had written off for dead. Carol absorbed Beth's gratitude like a scold, another reminder of how wrong she had been to lose hope.

From the top of the fire truck, Rosita swung a look out over them and pointed. Sasha aimed and a walker plopped over behind them. Reminded of the urgency of the situation, all laughter ceased. Glenn coughed and banged on the hood of the truck.

Unwilling to drop the offense, Beth pushed off the car with dainty fingers and then pressed a hand to her chest. "You know, Daryl saved me after the prison. But I like to think I saved him, too. Me, saving Daryl." After a head bob, Beth concluded, "Maybe we could get by alone in the old world, but you can't anymore. We need each other."

Carol winced slightly, Beth unknowingly hitting her sore spot. There was truth in the girl's words; at the bare minimum, they saved each other because strength resided in numbers. Of course they did. But that ache for the familial bond that went beyond bare _necessity_ clenched Carol's heart. Whatever thick wall had been constructed between her and the group due to her banishment persisted in the unspoken apologies from some, and the awkward, hesitant, conversations with others.

She did not want to feel like nothing but a tally mark forever.

Sasha popped off another walker and they both flinched at the bang. A second later, the repair crew let out a victorious yell over the truck.

Thankful for the escape, Carol patted Beth's arm and said, "Looks like we're ready to roll." She grabbed her thigh and gently eased her leg back into the car. "Thanks again for the medicine."

Beth left her with a small, unexpected hug. Carol gasped and then returned it greedily. "You got it. See you, Carol." In small, bounding steps, Beth disappeared into the backseat of her car.

Could affection be born again out of necessity?

Carol watched the group collapse back into their proper seating positions and desperately prayed for that to be the case. Some day she would share knowing looks with Michonne again, not fear the outcome of every chat with Rick, and embrace the new comers like siblings.

Some day.

That day could not come fast enough.

Last minute water bottles were tossed by Tara into grabbing hands. Doors thundered close and the caravan rumbled awake.

Daryl pulled away from Rick and his quick approach satisfied her raging desire to be wanted. Sticking out of his front pocket was what looked like a Reese's Cup, an additional treat to the bags of chips in his hands. Just as the final door on the truck slammed shut, he glanced back with a mischievous smirk.

Carol stifled a giddy giggle behind a hand as he slid the rare orange package into her seat pocket. He raised an eyebrow and defended his actions with a shrug. Carol beamed at him. Her constant companion, her best friend, there was no doubt in her mind that his attention stemmed deeper than the simple need for survival.

There was love in all his ministering.

 _"After all, you don't steal Reese's Cups for just anybody these days,"_ she mused.

While Daryl reclaimed his seat beside her, she dug out the chocolate treat and divided up the cups between the two of them.

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 **Author's Note:** Thanks for reading! I know there wasn't much Caryl in this one, but I wanted to explore Carol's relationship with other characters...There will be more Daryl in the next chapter, promise!

Reviews are greatly appreciated!-randomcat23


	4. 82 Miles

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Walking Dead.

* * *

 **82 Miles**

Carol's knocked out of her nightmare by the front door slamming. It had been a shadowy dream, all screams and creepy, helpless feelings. She attempted to shake off the tingling fear and replaced her head on the cool window, her eyes following Glenn until he faded into the darkness behind the next car. Just outside her own car, the grassy fields along the road were painted in shades of grey and white by the stars.

She had no idea where they were.

Eugene had their entire route planned on the map in red with alternatives highlighted in blue and green. Interstates around the city were useless, clogged trails of the past. Now the best routes were the forgotten ones, the two lane highways with nature creeping over the shoulders. Therefore, they had headed out of Atlanta on US Route 278 and eventually turned north on Highway 81.

That was the last sign she remembered.

Rocked to sleep by the hum of the tires and further encouraged by the pain killers, Carol had seen the backs of her eyelids more than the passing trees and empty houses. During the fleeting moments she'd been awake, she had bid a silent farewell to the region she had called home. There was a momentary pang in her heart just as they happened to drive pass a park she took Sophia to once, but it quickly faded.

These days, she was vested in the future.

Carol looked across the back seat and spied nothing but a torn candy wrapper in Daryl's spot. She grinned lazily. Now in the thralls of summer, heat was in excess, but that did not stop them from finding ways to touch each other; her head on his shoulder during a nap, a knee bumping hers, his calloused fingers trailing slowly around her collarbone under guise of only checking wounds. Her flinches that always followed were definitely not caused by pain.

They still needed to have their talk, but the urgency had waned as it became obvious there wouldn't be much privacy for a while as the group pushed far from the city. Knowing there were many miles to go calmed her enough to fall into a quiet routine: exchanging small greetings at the start of the day, Daryl keeping track of her medicine doses, she in a constant state of content drowsiness. They were only three days into this journey, but she happily imagined spending the rest of it curled up in the backseat of this car with Daryl.

Carol craned her neck to see if she could spot him returning in the night.

"You're very restless when he's not here," Maggie spoke up from the front seat.

Carol coughed lightly, embarrassed, but unsurprised by the remark. She had known for a long time that she slept better with him near, even if it was just recently that she admitted it. "I'm sorry."

The response was quick. "Don't be. I'm the same way with Glenn."

Carol's cheeks flushed with the implication. She leaned into the resulting pregnant pause, her heart pounding with curiosity. "What are you trying to say?"

The younger woman turned around and flashed a knowing grin, almost Cheshire-like in the star light. "Nothing!" Almost as fast, Maggie spun forward again and told her, "Glenn went to get him."

Teased and a tad self-conscious, Carol shimmied her shoulders back into the seat with a mere hum. The remaining drugs in her blood tugged at her eyelids again, but she shook it off with the intention of staying up until Daryl came back. Both women stared out the windshield, waiting.

Suddenly, Maggie's spine straightened and her hand dropped to her knife, "Be right back," she said and was gone before Carol could ask what was wrong.

A peek through the front window revealed nothing the glimmering rear window of the car in front. An owl screeched from a tree. There was some movement in the darkness ahead, but no screams or gunfire or moans of the dead. Satisfied that there wasn't an immediate danger, Carol leaned back again, rubbed her leg, and glanced at the clock. Woozily she decided, _"Too early for another dose..."_

Besides, in a few, quiet minutes she'd be slumbering again...

She jerked at the opposite door creaking. Daryl slumped in without a word, quickly molding to the curve of the seat, legs splayed. He caught her gaze and in a strained, low voice said, "Thought you'd be sleeping."

"Everything okay out there?" The peaceful ease shattered before he could respond; she smelled death on him. Coupled with the way he gingerly entered the car, terror struck Carol like a cleaver. In one scoot she was flush with his hip. There were shiny black smears on his grungy pants.

Daryl grunted, not moving. "Nodded off for a minute. Got jumped by a group of walkers." He shifted just enough so a wet spot on his far side caught a light beam.

Panicked, Carol yelped, "Are you hurt?" and reached over him for it. Her fingers came away sticky and all sense abandoned her.

"Naw, it's just-"

Blinded by the instant rush of adrenaline, she fumbled at his vest. Spurred on by the amount of blood still there, deft fingers wiggled their way under the outer layer, desperate for a confirmation. But they found a dampness there too, staining the thin shirt. "Daryl!"

"'M fine." Exhaustion weighed down his words and his reaction, hand slipping over her wrist. He gave her upper arm a gentle push. "Yer tired. Go to sleep-"

She wasn't hearing it, the screams from her earlier nightmare clogging her ears. The loud tearing of flesh, thundering steps that led only into more danger. Too easily, horror overwhelmed her thoughts, _"No, no, no. We were just getting...not now. Not after everything. Not after we've come this far. We haven't..."_

Dodging his sluggish defenses, Carol overrode his claim and found a small space where his shirt had come out of his waist band. She shoved her hand in the opening and sought out his skin there. The blood soaked shirt cooled the back of her knuckles, but nothing other than the knotty tail of an old scar marred the smooth skin under her fingers.

Carol instantly stilled and the nightmare blanketing her senses dissipated. "Oh, thank God," she whispered.

"Told ya," he huffed and patted her back.

Sheepishly she murmured, "You did." The worry leaked out of her just as quickly as it had risen. Hovering over him, she fumbled for an appropriate justification for her overreaction. Carol frowned at herself. "I'm sorry...I just..." A yawn cut her off, perhaps an explanation in of itself.

"'S alright, I get it."

Carol, bemused, turned to face him.

Sensing her shifting, Daryl pried open tired eyelids.

Like a slap, their proximity registered abruptly; her hand under his shirt, her breasts pressed against his chest. A muscle spasm pulsed under her fingers. They both sucked in a gasp.

It wasn't the first time they had been so close, but it was definitely the first time without a wound present to be used as an excuse. Even when they were at the prison, at their happiest, they had never found themselves in a comparable predicament. Their teasing and soft touches never induced this high of a heart rate.

Suddenly, they weren't so sleepy anymore.

Exhale clipped, Daryl's blue eyes blazed behind the fringe of his hair, mere inches from hers. They flicked not once, but twice to her parted lips. Carol smiled brazenly, the heat in between her legs hastily endorsing the attention. Her eyes twinkled as he trailed a hand up her spine.

Fingers now on the back of her neck, Daryl panted and tilted his head forward.

She fully intended to move her hand to his cheek, but her fingers had a mind of their own, unprepared to leave his hot skin. They fell into following a groove by his hip until her pinky slipped under the waistband of his jeans.

Daryl jumped to the ceiling, shattering the delicious tension. "Carol!"

"Sorry!" She lamented and freed the offending hand smoothly with the plan to backing away; even with her heart in rapid fire mode, Carol took in the shock on his face and reasoned that maybe this was a bit too fast, too soon. She knew better than to rush her steady hunter.

But his sweet, mournful groan that chased her retracting hand only encouraged her to try again.

Appropriateness be damned. Carol absently ran her smudged hand over her pants and requested permission by meeting his gaze.

Daryl jerked away. Confused for a split second, Carol reflexively copied him, throwing herself back into her space just as Maggie returned. A string of silent curses followed.

"Finished moving the bodies," Maggie, breathless, explained.

Daryl readjusted his positioning, now more upright than slouched. After a prolonged second and a raised eyebrow from Maggie, he finally rasped, "Should get out of here soon. Could be more, a larger cluster."

They all looked to the eastern horizon, still a deep black. "Rick's up now, too," Maggie reassured them, but not before giving them both a long study. "He said we'll go at first light."

The entire conversation came to her muted; Carol only had her attention on Daryl. She licked her parched lips, thirsty for some acknowledgement. His head was thrown back over the seat, moonlight highlighting the curve of his throat. She could see the obvious evidence of his pulse there. After a slow swallow, he ran a restless hand over his face. He then turned his head to stare at her.

Back in her seat, Carol met his look, and found her own emotions mirrored there: bewilderment _and_ disappointment. Then, like two children caught stealing from the cookie jar, they guiltily looked away simultaneously. Carol wiped her palms over her thighs. Daryl's hand twitched.

"Try and get some rest you two," Maggie's soft sing-song ended the conversation. She nuzzled her head rest.

 _"Easier said, than done."_ Thankfully, the window was cool against Carol's flushed skin. Judging from her flip-flopping stomach, Carol accepted that it would be a long time before she slept. Sneaking sideways glances at the man across from her did nothing to help the cause.

Eventually, at a rate matching the shift of the stars, her heart slowed. She had replayed the short scene nearly fifty times and now there was only one thought keeping her awake. It rang in her head as clear and deafening as a chorus of bells: they needed to have that talk.

* * *

The group was up with the sunrise, pink and warm on their faces.

Daryl was gone, out helping with preparations, but her breakfast was laid out on the seat. She took it with her medicine. After some thoughtful chewing and more than one grin about the previous night, Carol waved over Rick. "Rick. We should stagger our watches."

"You heard about last night, then?"

She nodded. Once she had forced herself to stop thinking about what might have almost happened between her and Daryl, she occupied herself with the watch problem. It was too risky to have two exhausted people on guard. "If we have someone rotating in every two hours, then one person will always be fresh, less likely to dose off. "

Hands on his hip, Rick's glance swept to the ground and then back to her. "It's a good idea. We'll start that tonight." He then clapped her shoulder with a small grin and walked away.

Satisfied with that small amount of progress, she spent the rest of the next half hour eyeing Daryl as he buzzed around and piecing together that very necessary and (hopefully) forthcoming conversation.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Thanks so much for reading! Any Feedback is lovely!


	5. 150 Miles

**Disclaimer:** Nope, I don't own The Walking Dead!

* * *

 **150 Miles**

"Hey. Gonna go hunt." Daryl grabbed his crossbow and checked his knife. The midday sun glinted sharply off its edge before he sunk it back into its sheath. "Ya need anything?"

Carol rubbed the sleep from her eyes. "No, I'm good."

He nodded affirmative, crossbow dangling from his fist, but did not leave. Instead, they practiced their new habit of looking each other over with curious expectation. Every shared stare lingered just a second longer than the last. The blush that colored his face faded into a half-smile, its warmth rivaling the sun on her skin. Her fingers itched to slide a path along his hip, eager to be familiar with the skin there.

Daryl broke the tantalizing spell by biting his thumb and suddenly finding interest in the car upholstery.

Carol exhaled wistfully.

They had danced around that event in the car like professionals. Now pushed to an edge like a locked rollercoaster at the cusp of a plummet, they were hanging with their breath held. Common place touching had been replaced with electric looks hidden from the others by feigned normalcy. For example, Daryl's casual pose today, one arm on her open door, opposite hand in a pocket, felt out of place for the man who was always poised for action, but no one passing by would ever question it.

Abraham stalked just feet from them. Daryl reshuffled and tried a different position. Carol saved him by asking, "Where are we?"

"Just crossed into South Carolina. Stoppin' for awhile to scavenge, get water..."

People paired off from the other cars, shouldering empty backpacks. There was an ease in everyone's movements, but the vehicles were all positioned for a quick getaway. Carol glanced back and saw they had pulled over just after crossing a large bridge.

She narrowed her eyes at the private opportunity the bridge provided. While everyone else was traversing the woods and soggy beaches along the river, it would be so easy to get a quiet moment with Daryl. Anticipation clogged her throat. She coughed to clear it. "Are we running low on food?"

"No." Daryl patted her back gently, shy distance temporarily suspended. He nodded to the woods and then raised his crossbow. "Just takin' advantage of the time."

Energized, Carol grabbed the lip of the car and hoisted herself up.

From what anyone could tell, her injuries were healing correctly. However, without an X-ray or MRI it would be impossible to tell for certain. Carol felt the improvement in the way simple movements no longer cost so much breath. This morning she had promised herself she would start weaning herself off the pain killers. Now that progress was being made with her physical ailments, it was time to address the emotional ones.

"Can we...have that talk?" Her knees shook with nerves and she cursed herself for being so vague.

She'd be lying if she said she harbored no fear about it. During more nights than not, she had clenched her eyes shut and forced herself to sleep with the hope that this linchpin wouldn't be their undoing. But there was no way to move forward without it. She did not want to chase their budding relationship without it.

Daryl nodded immediately, "Yeah." While he replaced his crossbow in the trunk, Carol edged her way toward the back of the car. Trunk shut, Daryl offered, "Need help?"

"No. I want to try walking."

After a second's hesitation, he dipped his head and filed in beside her, close enough to catch her mid stumble.

Carol took the lead, pulling them from the cluster of vehicles and out onto the bridge. Angry twangs came with every stride from her hip, but she persisted until the rush of the Savannah River blocked out the bustle around their vehicles. Wordlessly, they both shuffled to a stop. The metal railing was hot under her crossed arms.

For a long time the only noise was the lapping of the river against the bridge pillars beneath them.

Carol bit her lip, _"Should have nailed down how to start."_ She had practiced, moved words around in her head like she was editing a thesis rather than a few sentences, but any preparation was obliterated by the twisting knot in her stomach. A few times Carol opened her mouth in an attempt to force the beginning, but always snapped her lips shut. Afterward, she'd smooth her slick hands over the concrete as if she could wipe away the false starts. She repeated this at least three times, but still, she said nothing.

Only the river flowed downstream and, with it, her chance to have this talk.

This time, Daryl saved her by breaking the silence. "Never been outta Georgia," he commented lightly, but finished with a clamped mouth and hard eyes downcast. Sun glimmered on the water, a forgotten buoy bobbed along with the current.

"No?"

He dug out a cigarette, lit it, and took a drag with all the ease he had been missing by the car. The first whiff of smoke faded. Then another. He tapped the ash over the railing. "Never thought I'd leave, really. Get away from my Old Man, Merle even, yeah, but...not Georgia."

"Are you going to miss it?" The sad slope of his back told her all she needed to know, but Carol tilted the end of the sentence upward with the hope of dragging out this bit of talking. Delaying the inevitable was never a good strategy, but if he was going to give her a chance to find the words, she was going to take it.

Daryl shrugged and dropped the stubby cigarette to grind it under his toe. He then looked at her steadily. "Don't matter. Gotta keep movin'."

Carol bobbed her head, his resignation giving her strength.

A fish broke the water's surface and disappeared just as quickly. Forgotten boats tilted half-sunken in the shallow water. Tara popped out of one. The breeze carried her victorious whoop to Rosita on the shore, who fist pumped the air.

Carol plucked at her sleeve before summoning her courage. Summarizing old information seemed to be the easiest place to start. Her knuckles went white around the railing. "I told you before that what happened consumed me and I couldn't talk about it. But now I have to. "

He visibly tensed, waiting for whatever came with this long time coming confession.

She frowned slightly and began at the prison. "Rick banished me for killing Karen and David."

"Was gonna come after ya." Residual anger came through in the throaty growl but Daryl confirmed the information with a guilty nod.

She touched his elbow, absolving him, and then weaved her hands together to hide their trembling. "I came back when I saw the smoke and ended up with Tyreese and the girls. We traveled for a few days."

Carol stuttered at the end of the known information. Daryl had pieced together her timeline from banishment to Terminus. But the devil was always in the details, and she could not exorcise this one alone.

She released the railing and turned to him. The air immediately thickened in her lungs. Her eyes stung and blurred. When the urge to collapse swelled up from her gut, she jerked her spine straight, one hand on the railing, the other covering her parted mouth. Finally, chin up, not with defiance, but with responsibility Carol confessed, "I had to kill Lizzie."

All the reasoning (Mika's death, Judith's safety) and all the painful particulars (the fall of Lizzie's body, the blood so red) fell away. Tears overran her words, maybe saying everything left unsaid.

It must have been enough because Daryl swept her up, erasing any fear of being shunned.

She latched onto him.

Daryl remained a silent support while sobs worked their way down her frame. After all, there were no words that could provide the comfort she found in his embrace. Flashes of yellow and green played under her eyelids. She vibrated with the memory of the gunshot. Yet, somehow, by finally voicing it, Carol felt a solidness she hadn't experience for a long time. Even though she was in the middle of mourning, she was also hyper aware of the rough concrete under her soles and Daryl's strong body against hers.

It happened. She killed a sick child to protect another. Her pain was real and now she didn't have to carry it alone. She didn't have to fear for their future now that her past was revealed.

They stood entwined on the bridge while the river rushed underneath for a time.

Exhausted, but stable, Carol eventually held him at arm's length. There was one more thing that needed to be said in order to bring the conversation to completion. "I wanted to leave after Terminus." A tick in his jaw was the only evidence that she had confirmed his assumption. Carol couldn't have him worrying about that night by the car. So much had changed. She placed a hand over his heart and grabbed the fabric there. "I don't anymore."

Daryl's hand encompassed her own. "Good. Don't," he pleaded and pulled her in again.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Yay, finally! I feel like every story I'm working on has a scene where Carol tells Daryl about Lizzie. Hopefully this one worked out.

If you're enjoying this thing, please considering shooting me a review! Really goes a long way to feed my motivation!

Thanks so much for reading!-randomcat23


	6. 152 Miles

**Disclaimer:** I don't own The Walking Dead!

* * *

 **152 Miles**

After thoroughly searching the banks of the Savannah River and the surrounding woods, they moved a couple of miles down the road to make camp for the night.

The group had broken down into small units. Unsurprisingly, the newest members clustered together, though Glenn and Maggie were making progress infiltrating their tight circle. Comments exchanged here, a snack handed off there, small gestures that crossed the border and forged a stronger bond. Around the fire, the teenagers joked and made small talk. Daryl and Sasha paced the perimeter, allowing the others to enjoy the camaraderie.

Carol hitched up her hip, trying to find a position on the log that didn't aggravate her injuries. Along with her hip, her heart ached too, bruised from her earlier conversation with Daryl. When all that pent up pain had been released, it took most of her strength with it. Now, the car's backseat tempted her with its support and plush cushions. Carol ignored it, not ready to leave the gathering just yet.

Carol followed Daryl with her eyes as he weaved in and out of the trees. He had held her a long time out on the bridge, soothing her with caresses down her back and a gentle cheek pressed to her head. Although his protesting headshake had her biting back tears, she eventually set him free to go hunting in the late afternoon. The way their hands had slowly separated then felt like a promise for later.

To prove she could handle a few hours apart, she had joined Tara and Michonne who were inventorying the newest supplies. Neither woman had said much besides pleasant small talk, though Tara was proving to be a much welcomed, cheerful addition to their family. The rest of the afternoon had passed quickly. Busying herself had successfully served two desires: One, to spend time with the other members in her family; two, to distract herself from how exhausted their conversation had left her.

Even without the emotional trauma, she would have been struggling to stay standing; it was her first full day on her feet since getting struck by that car, after all. It came as no surprise that once she sat down on the log, it had all caught up with her. Aware of this, Carol still stubbornly resisted sleep.

Over the fire, Beth roasted the squirrels Daryl had caught. Both Noah and Carl looked ready to claim double their share. Carol's stomach rumbled in agreement, the cooked meal a tantalizing treat after days of nothing but canned beans and prepackaged snacks. Her mouth watered as she shook off another yawn.

She got drawn back into the fireside conversation by the sound of her name.

"Carol had a grenade in her purse!" Carl exclaimed and grinned at her. "She gave it to my Dad, he chucked it and blew up the window!" The boy's arms went up and wide. "We ran out and the whole building exploded behind us!"

"Holy cow." Wonder put an extra syllable in every one of Noah's words.

Across the clearing, Abraham looked impressed.

Rick nodded in confirmation.

Carol shrugged away the momentary attention, but smiled slightly.

"Where did you guys go after that?" Noah pressed and curled a hand around Beth's. Carol caught Maggie smirking from her spot on the other side of the fire.

Carl launched into their next chapter, Hershel's farm. Now an eye-witness, Beth took her chance to add her version of events, from Rick carrying Carl into their house, to Hershel performing surgery. It was fascinating, in a way, to hear the story from the youngest members of their group. The retelling was factual, but it came with a positive spin, even from Carl.

Neither one of them mentioned Shane or Sophia.

Carol zoned out before she could find out if they would.

The fire licked at the logs, the slow process of flame consuming wood enough to distract her. Any other day, she might have been able to withstand a quick discussion about the farm and other stories about their shared past. However, today, the idea of prodding anymore old injuries made dread clench in her gut.

She sat up just enough to get over the edge of the log and slumped to the ground. Although the position change took the weight off her hip, she now had to rub her thigh, hoping to work out the tension. When that did nothing to quell the pain, she drew out a pill from her pocket and popped it into her mouth. Carol set her mouth after gulping it down, determined to not let its side effects pull her away before dinner.

Tyreese approached her from the other side of the fire. "It was good to see you on your feet." He squatted next to her, squirrel-on-stick in hand.

She took it with a snort. "I probably looked like a gangly foal."

He chuckled deeply. "How are you feeling?"

The question carried a lot of weight between the two of them. The last time they had really talked, they had agreed to forget about Lizzie, fearful of the damage it would wreck. Carol frowned over at him, wondering if Tyreese still struggled to bear the secret, especially now that she had unburdened herself on Daryl and experienced the relief it had brought. Regret knitted its way into her brow as she twirled the stick before finally answering, "Bushed. But, better."

"Glad to hear it." Tyreese settled next to her and stretched out his long legs. If he guessed the source of her improvement, he said nothing. Carol mentally noted to ask him about it at a better time.

They started to pick apart their squirrels in companionable silence. Eugene moved toward the fire with a pot to boil some water. Michonne and Rick alternated between throwing logs into the fire and rocking Judith. Eventually, Tyreese took her empty stick and tossed both their skewers into the fire before retreating to his vehicle.

She breathed in the liveliness of the group deeply. With her belly full, the medicine kicking in, and a sweet mix of laughter, chatting, and popping logs Carol lost the fight against exhaustion and slid into a dazed state.

Her chin dipped and she slept.

Carol stirred at a gentle shake to her shoulder. Daryl hunched over her, a sleeping bag tucked under one arm. The barest hint of a smile glimmered in his eyes. "Ready for bed?"

The clearing was dim, the fire nothing more than a dark orange glow. Sometime between dinner and now the group had laid out in the grass, taking advantage of the space. A few people were still stirring, so it must not have been too long after dinner. Under the moon, Rick paced on watch now, Rosita, his partner.

Eyes heavy with medication, Carol confirmed, "Yes."

Daryl offered her a hand and lifted her up. "Figured ya could lay out on the backseat."

Carol glanced at the car and then back down to her feet. The vehicle was only fifteen yards away, but the distance gaped like a hundred. It seemed so far away from everyone. She swayed into him, resisting the desire to lay against his chest. "Actually, I'd like to sleep here."

"Ya sure? Could carry ya." His head tilted with the question, his eyes squinting. Daryl scraped a toe along the hard, dry ground.

She nodded. "I'm sure."

"Alright." Daryl dropped the bag and unrolled it. He tested the softness with a hand and frowned. " 'S not very supportive."

The persistent ache in her chest overwhelmed any twinge in her hip and side. "It's fine." Wincing slightly on her way down to her knees, Carol murmured, "I just don't want to be alone tonight."

"Ain't goin' nowhere," he reassured her, taking the ground flanked by the log and her bag.

Even that small distance was too large. Determined, Carol unzipped the bag completely so it laid flat like a large blanket. She took her spot and then tugged at his pant leg, looking at the open side of the sleeping bag. She craved that closeness from the bridge, fearful of the kind of dreams she'd get without the feel of him against her. "Please."

Daryl processed her request while biting the inside of his cheek. Softly, he said, "Scoot over."

Carol rolled to the other end and Daryl took his place between her and the dark woods. Reclined on his side, picking at his hands, he surveyed her with half-lidded eyes as she shifted onto her back more comfortably.

"Alright?"

Carol gave him a small nod and he took it as permission to lay down. There were a few, shy changes in his positioning until he finally tucked his far hand under his head. Their shoulders barely touched, but Carol knew it would be enough to keep the nightmares away. She watched the steady rise and fall of his chest before closing her eyes and slipping a hand into his.

In her final, foggy moments preceding deep sleep, she recalled his slow thumb strokes across her skin.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Thanks for reading! Feedback is greatly appreciated!


	7. 198 Miles

**Disclaimer:** Nope, not mine!

There's a bit of deer butchering described in this chapter. Nothing super graphic, but it's there!

* * *

 **198 Miles**

Limping, but unwavering, Carol circled the vehicles in her self-imposed exercise routine. Muscles clenched and unclenched as she made her way to her next destination: The fire truck stalled out on the crest of a hill. Just behind her hip, her fingers dropped from the car flanking the left lane. While the vehicles always formed a circle on the road of some kind, today's formation wasn't as tight as others. The wide gaps between bumpers tested her balance.

Michonne, Maggie, and Sasha were on watch. Their vigilance freed Carol to focus on the physical mechanics of walking and getting used to the feeling of a knife in her hand again without having to constantly glance about for walkers. She gritted her teeth and struck her feet down, heel to toe. Her grip worked to reestablished calluses gone soft during her recovery.

It wasn't until her third round that her hip sent out the first protesting throb. Disappointed, but not willing to risk falling or worsening an injury, she slowed her gait and leaned against the fire truck, intent on picking a pebble from her shoe.

Her ear tilted to catch the grumblings coming from the front of the truck.

"We need something better this thing." Rick commented, more command than suggestion.

Buried up to his elbows in grease, Abraham cursed under the hood. "Well if you find something that can seat as many people _and_ clear the walkers, please let me know! This is just maintenance cost, sheriff."

"We can't keep wasting time on an unreliable, gas-guzzling machine."

"You know I don't like all this lollygagging either." Something wet plopped to the ground as Abraham released another body part from the grill.

Carol wrinkled her nose at the wafting stink, _"No wonder the damn thing keeps breaking."_

Progress had been slow since Atlanta. They were a week out but hadn't crossed the half way point. Luckily, they'd been able to keep the food and gas supplies restocked. The last few creeks had been low, but they always managed to find a pool deep enough to fill their water bottles. Morale was high. There was talk about establishments in Richmond, or around the Capitol. They ranted dreamily about mattresses, ice, and late night reading under a lamp. When their fantasies ran rampant there was excessive debates about unlimited donuts, pudding, and fondue.

That wasn't enough to keep Abraham and Rick from bickering, however.

Carol walked away from that conversation drinking the last sip from her water bottle and turning an eye to her napping spot, the reliable backseat. One hand on her hip, the other on her brow, she squinted from the top of the rise at the haze lines drifting up from the pavement. Taking in the positions of the others, she identified one oddity: Noah perched on his car, alone. Beth was at the back vehicle, snapping out towels.

As Carol made her slow descent, Noah cast Beth sideways glances over his shoulder. Beth never even batted an eyelash in his direction. Carol pondered the two of them and then, still parched, grabbed another water bottle from her seat pocket. One gulp and her tongue unstuck itself from the roof of her mouth. With the second, she took time to hold it against her tongue before swallowing.

"They're ridiculous," Maggie muttered from her post. "They've been at this for at least twenty minutes."

Carol chuckled. "I'm not going to worry until they start asking us to deliver messages between them."

Pattering steps approached from behind Carol and the two women stifled their laughter.

"Come on, Carol, let's suntan!" Beth had her shirt tied up by the time she finished the sentence. She struck a pose, determination in her wide eyes. "The sun will do us good!"

Carol couldn't help but laugh, seeing through this ridiculous request. She tilted her head toward Noah. "You're teasing him."

Beth pushed on a pair of dark sunglasses with a huff. "I don't know what you're talking about." Persistent, she held out a pair of red sunglasses into Carol's hand and grabbed her other.

A warm breeze rushed over the sweat on Carol's neck, taking with it any declination; napping in the sun would be a nice change from the stuffy backseat. After a glance at Maggie, she let Beth drag her to the furthest vehicle, its hood decorated with two faded beach towels.

"This cast is going to give me the worst tan line!" Beth plucked at the edge of the casing around her arm before swinging her arm in agitation. The cast did nothing to hinder her perching on the hood.

Following the girl's lead, Carol rolled up the hem of her tank top and the ankles of her pants and leaned back against the hot hood of the car. With a crossed leg and a few less layers, they could have made a pretty good pin-up calendar.

From the top of her car, Maggie wolf-whistled at them.

Beth promptly flipped her off.

Carol saluted with a lazy wave. "So. Beth. Are you going to tell me what happened between you two?"

"He's being needy," the teenager quipped and flicked a stray hair from her shoulder, her golden locks bleached into a lighter blonde by the sun.

Carol watched Noah peek over his shoulder again before closing her eyes with a bemused grin. "You are his best friend here," she reasoned.

"Well, I just need some time to myself."

"Nothing wrong with that. Just...maybe you shouldn't punish him with exposed skin."

Beth's lips sunk into a frown, but she remained defiant. "I'm just sunbathing."

"If you say so!" Carol conceded with a sigh and filled her lungs with the gloriously humid air.

They passed the afternoon soaking in the sun. It took Carol back to summers in high school when she and her friends would pay the fee to the local pool just they could bake on sticky plastic chairs. Slathered in sunscreen and confident in their spotted bikinis, they had smiled at the football players until they were out of earshot and then burst into giddy giggles. If Carol listened hard enough, she could recall the echoes of splashing over-chlorinated water and the lifeguard's shrill whistle. She chuckled softly at the memory.

She readjusted her sunglasses and took comfort in Michonne's reliable steps pacing the boarder of their camp. Old memories continued to play on her eyelids like worn movie reels, foggy at the edges, but never diminishing in emotion. Never one to dwell too much on the past, she eventually came back to the present. Her thoughts then flitted between the worrisome truck and finding more formula for Judith, before finally settling where they always wanted to be: on Daryl.

She was mildly concerned that they had stalled out after their talk; she may have clung to him that night by the fire, but that was in search of consolation after a draining day. No spine-tingling caresses, no fire-stoking gazes. Since then it had just been the steady, day-to-day ease of each other's company. She reasoned that maybe even with that one roadblock removed, it would take them some time to move forward again. They'd always move at a snail's pace, two flirtations forward, one embarrassed shrug backward.

Her foot twitched and with a sigh, she forced herself to set her disappointment aside for now.

It was easy to lose track of time when the day was paced only by cicadas, the rounds of the watch, and the drips of sweat between her breasts. Eventually the dip of the sun was severe enough that the searing heat underneath her faded into a comfortable warmth.

Still the tinkering under the hood of the truck continued.

The prolonged peace was shattered by a gasp, a loud thump, and someone yelling, "Daryl!"

Carol whipped off her sunglasses. She followed Michonne's gaze up the hill and spied Daryl down on one knee. There was a small doe splayed out on the road in front of him, dripping a thin trail of blood. The hunter quickly pushed away the water Glenn tried to force down his throat.

"Everything okay?" Beth peeked over her shades, her skin pink from the long hours in the sun.

"I'll go see." Carol waved her off and, with a pointed look, jerked a thumb in Noah's direction. "You should probably go sit in the shade."

Beth sighed, but slid off the car and the two sunbathers separated.

Ignoring the throb in her side, Carol limped up the hill, just as Glenn successfully managed to get Daryl to take a sip.

"You're probably dehydrated." Glenn chastised and shook the bottle again.

"Just lost my footing..." his grumbling trailed off at the scratch of gravel under her shoe announcing her presence.

"Daryl? Are you okay?"

His shoulders pinched, but his face remained hidden behind his curtain of hair. Seconds passed to the drumming of his fingers over the crinkling water bottle.

Perplexed, Carol tried his name again.

"'M fine." Hesitantly, he swallowed and finally raised his chin. Deep blue eyes flicked twice up and down her form. It was fast, in his efficient way, but not quick enough for her to miss how he paused on her exposed midriff and chest.

Her heart jumped at the blatant attention. Suddenly, her sweaty tank top felt clingy and her fitted jeans hugged her thighs like spandex. Carol shifted from one foot to the other, letting her eyes gaze back under narrow lids.

Daryl coughed and fumbled for another sip of water.

"Do you want help with that?" Glenn moved to grab the deer, graciously ignoring the way they stared at each other.

"Got it." Daryl snatched the kill away from him. Before anyone could say anything else, he hefted it back on his shoulders and retreated behind the truck.

Satisfied with the lack of a limp in his gait, Carol turned to Glenn and managed to keep her voice from shaking, "You should probably help Rick and Abraham."

"Yeah. Okay." After a nod in Daryl's direction, Glenn's face lit up with a comment, but Carol cut him off with an arched eyebrow. Taking the hint, Glenn mouthed, "Good luck!"

By the time Glenn was out of ear shot, the goose bumps on her arms had faded. Carol made herself look busy by examining a fleck of rust on the bumper of the truck.

It wasn't as if they'd never seen each other's skin before. Daryl constantly ran around without sleeves and Carol remembered a few incidents in the prison showers that were too close to pretend he didn't get at least a peek. Her eyes narrowed as flake of paint broke free under her nail. She crushed it between two fingers with a nod; it was the openness with which he admired her that had her heart cheering. How his eyes had grown darker with each sweep, the tiniest smirk of approval winking at the corners of his mouth, before embarrassment took over and he turned away.

As it turned out, she wasn't the only one teasing a male with bare skin today! The lusty giggle that threatened to burst from her collapsed into a muffled chortle. Carol refolded a corner of her shirt and strutted to the edge of the pavement, eager to extend this progress.

Daryl had dropped the deer just off the road and was kneeling next to it, knife drawn. Red already smeared the grass and his busy hands.

Her heart pounded like a hammer as she dropped to her knees. "How's your ankle?" Carol began casually.

Daryl paused, blade millimeters from the brown fur. "Fine," he answered hoarsely, trying and failing to hide his embarrassment by stabbing the deer. The knife struck awkwardly off a bone. Daryl growled at it and cut again with excessive force.

"You're moping," she observed, but even that goad wasn't enough to get him to meet her eyes. After these last few days of stagnation, she found herself holding her breath for his response, wanting so much to push them further, to tell him he could ogle her as long as she received the same privilege. Instead, she clamped her lips.

"Angry 'bout making a fool of myself 's all." The rest of his muttering was lost as he wiped his face on his arm. The next slice by the deer's own ankle cut like butter and then Daryl quickly snapped the bone.

It had been a long time since she watched him skin and butcher a deer. She had forgotten how easy it was to see past the gore when all her eyes followed were his biceps flexing with each scrape and the way he bit his lower lip as he peeled skin back. Her mind wandered back to the taut, smooth skin of his waist and the groove her fingers had followed along his hip that night in the car. Her own waist itched when she imagined him doing the same to her. Caught up in the moment, she debated tackling him here, right that second.

They had moved an inch and she now wanted to sprint miles.

"Gonna just stare at me?" Daryl asked, the bold accusation weakened by his soft tone. He handed her his spare knife. "Help me with this."

She inwardly laughed at herself as his redirect broke through her thoughts. Carol ran fingers through her hair and wrangled her expectations. Reason took over desire; it would be foolish to sprint from the beginning. Hunkering down, she grabbed the offered knife. "Alright, what should I do?"

The slow twang in his voice as he instructed her where to cut and how to slice sent shivers up her spine all over again. But, then with the splash of blood and the splitting of muscle, any remnants of her daydreaming fell away into reaffirming nods and gestures.

After while, they established a rhythm, him giving expert advice, her following it like a star pupil. Only rarely did they bump elbows. Daryl's eyes continued to sweep over her and he didn't hesitate to correct her with a touch. As they gained efficiency, Carol reassessed their evolution with a resigned grin; maybe, rather than inches, they were moving yard by yard. Regardless, her earlier fear vanished, satiated, for now, with the small gain today.

"Gonna be here awhile," Daryl broke the silence and repositioned himself to lean over the carcass.

Not following, Carol glanced at the angle of the sun and shrugged. "We're making quick work of it."

"Naw. The truck."

"Ah..." She glanced back at the large vehicle. "Rick's not pleased."

"Eats up alotta time." He tossed more dismembered parts into the woods and wiped the slime from his hands. "S'dangerous to stay still long." They both gave the trees a look over at his comment, then returned to work.

"We don't have much of a choice until we find a better vehicle." Carol narrowed her eyes in thought. Fifteen people was a small army. There was no way to get everyone to Richmond without a fleet, though a more reliable one was obviously preferred.

After a minute's pause, Daryl asked, all business, "Ya doin' alright?"

Pride puffed up her chest and she beamed. "I walked around the perimeter today. Did pretty well if I do say so myself." She shimmied her shoulders in time with her words.

His knife disappeared into its sheath and Daryl continued his interrogation, "Take any meds?"

"No. I'm almost out and I really don't want them anymore. I've slept more than Carl!"

Daryl snorted. Status update acquired, he allowed himself a relieved smile and met her eyes directly for the first time since the truck. "Glad ya getting better."

"Me too."

Daryl dipped his hands into the sandy soil and scrubbed the rest of the wet blood off. She followed his lead, her mouth watering with the idea of a good deer roast. If they were stuck with that faulty truck, the least they could do was enjoy a barbeque. While Daryl finished cleaning up, Carol mentally ticked off a list of spices stashed in one of the trunks. Her stomach nosily cheered the idea of a smoky dry rub.

Carol stepped out of the shade of the tree line and into the early evening sun, eyeing the middle of the vehicle formation. She suggested they start a fire, but the proposal went unanswered. Carol glanced over her shoulder. "Daryl?"

The air thickened and time slowed as he moved within reach, catlike in his grace. It wasn't more than two steps, but she was struck still by the hunger in his eyes and the twitch in his cheek. Her stomach flipped under the gentle brush of calluses as he tugged down her shirt.

"Gonna get sunburn wearin' your shirt like that," he commented gruffly.

"What?" His suggestive words and the sudden movement set her back on her heels.

His hand twitched as if surprised to find itself at her waist, but Daryl did not remove it. With a short stroke across her skin he reasoned, ""S too nice to risk it."

She puffed out a ragged exhale and then trapped his palm to her skin. Eyes dazzling with mischief, she made an instinctual decision.

Two flirtations forward, maybe more. This time, she wouldn't allow the backward step.

She leaned and pressed a kiss on his upper arm. Just long enough to fill her lungs with him, to hear his sharp intake of breath. Only then did she back away to refold her tank top with a saucy shake of her hips. "If I have to cover my midriff, you better cover those arms, Dixon."

Then, chest aching with her pounding heart, she spun away on her heel. As she sauntered off, she grinned at the sound of Daryl's scrambling to pick up the deer and chase after her.

The taste of his skin still on her lips, Carol concluded, _"Inch by inch or yard by yard, at least we're getting somewhere!"_

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think!


	8. 244 Miles

**Disclaimer:** Nope, not mine!

* * *

 **244 Miles**

At the end of the day, when they had taken their places in the backseat, Daryl blocking out the dying sun's light, her snug at his side, fluffy clouds had obscured the horizon. Now, hours later, the winds had shifted, pushing the clouds out, making room for the moon and stars.

She'd have a clear sky for her first night back on watch.

Instead of rising and prepping for her shift, however, Carol counted the deep rises of Daryl's chest, mesmerized by the soft flutter of fabric over his heart. She smiled, tracing the strong line of his jaw with her eyes, feeling her own heart patter faster. It wasn't often she was gifted with the chance to observe him like this, vulnerable, the worry gone from his brow.

Squinting at the crookedness of two of his left fingers, she resisted the urge to kiss them; they were probably old bar fight badges or punishment for youthful carelessness. On the forearm slung carelessly across his lap she spied old road rash marks where the skin refused to tan.

 _"I wonder what else I'll see in the days...months to come,"_ Carol mused, curling her lips against his bicep.

They were getting closer, no longer hesitating before sleeping pressed up against one another. When she caught him examining her over the shoulders of Rick or Michonne, Daryl held her gaze without shame. It seemed silly that one of them hadn't just broken down and kissed the other square on the mouth. She had been close to doing so more times than she could count recently.

 _"Yards and inches. We are getting there."_ It could have been an excuse, but Carol felt it was just their natural course.

She remained still, drinking him in, until her leg cramped. Reluctant, Carol pulled away, limb by limb until she no longer touched him. Even without her making a sound, Daryl's eyes popped open, instantly questioning her departure. Her apologetic smile shined in the night. "I'm leaving for watch. Sorry I woke you."

Daryl fumbled for her hand. "'S dry out there. Walker's makin' alotta noise," he warned, words slurred. A tight frown accompanied his sleepy nod. "Yer gonna be fine."

The unnecessary confidence boost made her blush. He had volunteered to join her on watch, but she had turned him down with only a bit of regret; the man hadn't slept a whole night in weeks and she was not going to take that well-deserved opportunity from him.

Carol allowed herself one last admiring stare before backing out of the seat with a whispered, "Thank you."

Outside, the breeze whipped up and a distant barn creaked. Carol held her flashlight to her belly and used the three seconds it took to test it to resurface her drowning mind from the tizzy she always sunk into with Daryl's touch. As excited as she was to have watch responsibility again, knowing he would be waiting for her return had her counting down to the end of her shift.

 _"We'll get two more hours in the backseat before breakfast."_

With that reward in mind, after rolling her shoulder, Carol strode over to the guardrail where Sasha and Tyreese were posted. The change was swift. Sasha departed with nothing more than a stiff nod and a yawn after handing off her rifle.

Tyreese tipped his head at Carol. "Welcome back."

"Thanks." The guardrail wasn't the best vantage point, but like Daryl had said, the dry ground amplified walker shuffles. The road was banked on both sides, producing a decent slope off behind the guardrails. It wasn't much, but the incline would hinder a walker just enough if things got too dangerous.

Since Tyreese was taller and could peek over the vehicles, he watched the road. Carol positioned herself facing the woods.

"It's been quiet," Tyreese's said. "Hopefully it stays that way."

"I won't complain about an easy watch." She scanned the night, watched leaves overturn in the breeze and caught the shadow of an owl in the sky. At first, her hand and foot twitched at every noise. A week with nothing but an engine humming or Glenn and Maggie's murmuring made even the tiniest noise out here seem deafening and dangerous.

Especially when she held the safety of the group in her hands.

Carol bit her lip to focus and eventually found herself filtering out leaves from the animals. Nothing groaned or shuffled. As the cool metal dug into the back of her thighs, Carol widened her stance and settled into the relative quiet.

"I told Sasha...about Lizzie," Tyreese admitted without warning.

The back of her neck prickled; she had been meaning to speak to him about their pact to never talk about it. After finding comfort in confiding to Daryl, it seemed irresponsible to leave Tyreese laden with the burden.

Carol turned to him and, finding question in his eyes, released a relieved sigh. "I told Daryl."

Tyreese shifted with a nod. "You okay?"

"Yeah." She paused. For the first time since rejoining the group, saying so did not feel like a lie. The weight of killing Lizzie was a stone that lived in her stomach. She thought again of the man waiting for her in the car, knowing his care and listening ear had gone a long way to wearing down that stone. "You?"

"Mhmm. Thought I didn't want to talk about it, but it sorta tumbled out. Sasha...she...well, we're all still working through some things." He waved a hand, concluding, "but things are good, as good as they can be."

Carol nodded and clasped his arm briefly.

"I'm looking forward to starting over." Tyreese glanced down the road, hopeful. "There's gotta be something in Washington."

"There will be," she said encouragingly, even though, if she was honest, it did not matter to her if they made it to Washington. Besides getting Noah home and the small possibility of community, it was just a destination on a map.

Carol had already found all she could ask for.

* * *

About two hours later, Michonne appeared through the dark and Tyreese retreated to bed just as he had begun to yawn. The staggered watch cycles had gotten good reviews from everyone, but Carol swelled with pride experiencing her suggestion firsthand.

"I walked passed your car. Does Daryl always sleep like a sunbathing cat?"

Carol snorted and shook her head, "No, I'm usually squished against him."

Michonne tilted her head one way and then the other. Finally, she asked, "So, can we make it official? You and him?"

Carol raised her eyebrows expectantly. "Excuse me?"

Michonne quickly buried her laugh in the crook of her elbow as she leaned on the guardrail. "I thought it might have clicked with all the time you guys spend together now." Long legs crossed, Michonne noted with a lilt, "Shouldn't be surprised though, Maggie hasn't said anything about it yet..."

"Have you all been _gossiping_ about us?" Carol sputtered, halfway between indignant and entertained. Maggie had teased her one night, but she was stuck in the car with them all the time! It was impossible to hide every glance or hand hold from someone constantly three feet away. Glenn and Maggie definitely chattered to themselves, but Carol never would have guessed Michonne was in on it too!

Michonne winked. "Maybe just a bit."

A moan in the woods cut off her laughter. Both women dropped their grins and raised their weapons. Crouching, they peered at the tree line until a bush shook. Michonne led the attack, hoping down the slope and into the trees, slicing the walker's head in half before it got a chance to turn around. Carol finished off a second one, sequins on its rumpled dress shining in a moonbeam.

The speedy change in demeanor always impressed Carol, how quickly they could go from joking to killing mode. As Carol bent to check the pockets of the walkers, she waited for the inevitable back swing, feeling that Michonne wasn't ready to drop the conversation. Eventually, much to her chagrin, curiosity got the better of her. "What else have you guys been saying?"

Michonne flicked the blood off her sword. "Oh you know, this and that. I believe the old base terminology was thrown around."

"Ah, well...sorry to disappoint, but we're...only at bat."

At Carol's pursed lips and blush, Michonne turned serious. "I'm sorry I'm being nosy. But, you know, I spent a lot of time with that man when we were off hunting the Governor." She bent over to help flip the body and then squatted back on her heels. "I didn't learn much, but the one obvious thing to me was that he loved you."

Carol's hands stilled in the pockets of a walker.

"I can only imagine his affection has grown since then." Michonne shrugged. "He's definitely not sneaky with those heated stares anymore."

Carol gaped up at her friend, her curiosity more than satisfied. Part of her clamored to claim him, because, really, they were close to something, but another part of her refused to put a definition on it. Finally, once she shakily returned to her feet, Carol said, "We're working on it."

Michonne seemed to understand because she flashed a grin and left the woods.

* * *

Just as the sky gave the first hint of day, Carol inched back to the car, her hip protesting the previous four hours. After the blunt conversation in the woods, the rest of their night passed quietly with whispers. Apparently, Carol and Daryl weren't the only couple the group was watching; Noah and Beth were seen sneaking into the woods the other day.

When she was close enough to see pass her reflection in the window, Carol couldn't stop her shoulders shaking with silent laughter. Daryl had sprawled out in his sleep, leg on the bench, hair a wild mane.

 _"Like a cat, indeed,"_ she inwardly smirked. Michonne's words about Daryl came back to her, sending a shiver down her spine. It was shocking hearing what she had known for a long time from someone else. Carol had never thought of them as something their friends would be mindful of, let alone be invested in. But of course they wanted to see them happy. Still, some things were meant to happen in private.

In that moment, watching Daryl sleep peacefully, she concluded, _"Whenever it happens, we won't have an audience. I'll make sure of it."_

Daryl stirred at the slightest creak from the door hinge, eyes narrow slits.

Carol poked her head in the cracked door. "Got room in here for me?"

"Always," he drawled and, ungraceful in his haste and exhaustion, collected himself before opening his arm to receive her.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** There were several chapters where I was like: "Okay, you promised them fluff, so now tell them it's fluff from here on out." But then there was always the follow up, "Well, except for that _one_ chapter..." I really wanted to have the follow up with Tyreese, so here it is.

But now, I can finally say that from this point on, it's almost all fluff. If you've made it this far, I hope you enjoy what's to come!-randomcat23


	9. 330 Miles

**Disclaimer:** Nope, randomcat23 does not own the Walking Dead.

* * *

 **330 Miles**

"Ever been here? Uwharrie National Forest?" The foreign word slipped off Daryl's tongue easily. His head swiveled, taking in chirping birds, saplings sprouting underneath their parents, and the haunting stone foundations peeking out through the thick underbrush.

Carol shrugged. "No. I've never even heard of it."

Apparently, few other people had as well or at least few had thought to come here once the dead started walking. Other than an RV and a handful of other cars, there was little evidence of people coming and going. The trash bins stood empty, the brochures at the trail head shelter hadn't been pilfered for kindling. The unattended picnic groves they passed were painted green with moss. Other than the walker Abraham found in the RV, the dead seemed to have abandoned this sanctuary as well.

With the possibility of fish in the lake, the lack of threats, and a potential new vehicle to replace the troublesome fire truck, it had been an easy decision to stretch their road weary legs and camp here for a day.

For Carol it had been an even easier decision to take advantage of the quiet and privacy of the woods. Therefore, while the rest of the group explored the RV and cars, Carol had snatched up fishing supplies and slung a smooth promise over her shoulder to Maggie to be back by sunset with dinner. It had only taken a glance to get Daryl rushing to his feet beside her.

Now they followed the faded blue trail marks blazed into trees on their way to the lake, fishing poles light on their shoulders. Between them, a large cooler swung.

"When's the last time you've been fishing?" Carol asked after a deep breath of pine-filled air.

Daryl snorted and shot her a sideways look, "Ain't much of a fisherman."

She had seen him take down prey dozens of times, walkers hundreds of times, his cunning and patience always in play, physical strength his backup. And when he had to use all his skills, it was an awe-inspiring event, the fluid way his torso shifted in time with his hips, eyes blazing. It did not surprise her that he rarely participated in fishing, where patience was the most important, and maybe only necessary, attribute.

Carol dipped her chin to hide her grin; pleased that, apparently, the energy in his steps and the quick way his lips cracked into a smile today weren't due to her proposed activity. "So...never?"

He readjusted his grip on the cooler at a fork in the path and steered them left. "Long time ago. Merle thought it be funny to literally shoot fish in a barrel."

The fishing pole bounced on her shaking shoulder as she busted out laughing. "I...," a late giggle interrupted her. "I don't think that counts."

"Who do ya think put those fish in that barrel?" His chest puffed, tone prideful, as if he couldn't have her thinking there was some outdoorsy activity he wasn't at least competent in.

Carol continued to shake with mirth at the image of Merle standing over trapped fish with a shotgun until Daryl jerked on the cooler handle, tripping up her steps. If that wasn't enough to stop her breath, the smirk he flashed her definitely was.

As they broke through the wild bushes and popped out next to the lake, a thin cloud dragged its way in front of the sun. The water's surface shined like glass, fading from a murky brown to a dark blue further out from the bank. A fishing dock jut out into the water a short walk down the muddy path.

"Looks like as good a spot as any," Daryl said, hopeful, but left room for her to make the final call, which she did with a gentle tug on the cooler.

The dock was a long, wooden L with railings on both sides. Only the far end had been left open. The first few planks groaned under their weight, but gave up the fight midway over the water. Carol eyed the names and dates carved into the wood with interest, finding none more recent than two years; this place truly had been left in peace.

At the end of the dock, the peace of the day mixed with the knowledge that Daryl did not do much fishing sent a wave competitiveness through her and Carol wrinkled her nose with a snort. Before the cooler settled on the dock, she boldly declared, "I'm so going to catch more fish than you."

Daryl cocked his head, insulted. "No way."

"Wanna bet?"

"Reese's Cups," he said after careful consideration and handed her a pole. "Winner gets both cups."

Carol circled him slowly and made a show of assessing both him and the bet. She lightly tapped his leg with her pole and a hum. Daryl didn't even blink during her inspection, crossing his arms in defiance. Halting with her hands on her hips, she countered, "We don't have any Reese's."

"Milky Way, then."

"Two. Two Milky Ways," she answered and offered a palm.

He flashed his teeth and accepted. "Deal."

They strung up their poles, bare shoulder to bare shoulder, passing tiny bumps back and forth to knock each other just enough to make a finger slip. Daryl threw in an unnecessary hip bump, while working nimble fingers over the line, tongue between his teeth. She slowed her pace to enjoy the boyish jump he took to be first to dangle his feet above the water. The glance over his shoulder was pure mischief, but he wasted no time in making an empty space next to him. She joined him in the sunbeam and cast her line into the lake.

"Should have said Snickers," Daryl lamented and scratched his temple.

"Doesn't matter, because you won't win. And besides, we don't have any-" She dropped her sentence as her line jerked and then stilled.

Daryl leaned into her to get a better angle on her line. "Got somethin' there?"

"You worried?" She spoke out of the side of her mouth as she watched the line until it bobbed again. The wheel clicked twice.

"Naw." But he turned around and pulled a bucket out of the cooler.

"You sound scared," she teased.

Daryl puffed out a breath to shoo his hair into place. "Ain't scared."

She eyed his loose grip on the pole with a raised eyebrow. "Are you even trying?"

"'M tryin'," he insisted and wrapped a hand tighter around his fishing pole. "Can't track a fish, just gotta sit till somethin' happens."

Their bobbers calmly waited on the surface. After a few minutes of still waters, Daryl shifted until their knees touched. A shy hand tucked the tag of her tank top back in place, betraying his insistence that he was focused on fishing.

 _"Might not fulfill that promise to Maggie..."_ she thought fleetingly as her head followed his retreating fingertips.

Just as Carol considered tossing down her pole in favor of another activity, her pole bent and she jumped, breaking contact with him and Daryl moved away to give her space. The surface of the lake rippled around her darting line. Bubbles formed and popped when the fish broke the surface. After a short struggle and some creative cursing, Carol plopped the fish into the waiting cooler.

Daryl leaned over to shut the lid and reapplied a worm to her hook, murmuring to himself.

Fish stowed, she wiped her forehead. Now tempted to draw out the competition and the flirting, she then raised a pointer finger to the sky victoriously. In a long swoop, she brought her arm down at just the right angle so it dragged down the middle of his chest. Its journey ended in a slight poke. "That's one!"

He grabbed her wrist and chided, "Only one."

Daryl stepped closer, but she spun away toward the edge of the dock, boots loud on the planks.

"It's one fish closer to two Milky Ways than you are!"

Her line bobbed alone while Daryl shuffled behind her and she almost risked sneaking a glance, maybe catching him bent over or staring back at her. Instead, she hummed lightly and rolled her shoulders, back straight and proud. Once he sat down again, Carol couldn't resist nudging his shoulder.

He pushed her back. "Don' get cocky!"

The smile she flashed him disappeared just as quickly as it appeared; her pole yanked and she reeled in another, smaller fish. Chin up, Carol said, "It's just like shootin' fish in a barrel!"

Eyes wide, Daryl grumbled, "This pole's garbage, s'all."

"I might just be better at fishing than you, Pookie," she ragged, already feeling her muscles burn in her arm from hauling in the fish.

"Luckier, maybe." Daryl noted and reeled in his line to cast it out further into the lake. But the competitiveness was only in his words; his grip remained loose and his pose relaxed.

If Carol didn't know better, she'd have said he looked like a man who already had his winnings.

* * *

After Carol caught her fourth fish and Daryl had only managed to snag one catfish, he rose and began gutting the creatures. Daryl kept up with tossing taunts at her, but she was the only one with a hook in the water. Once the spare bucket was filled with waste, Daryl made a trip inland to empty it.

Carol flexed her hand and shook the tension from her shoulders. The sky now a golden yellow and long shadows crept over the water. They would have to leave soon to get back before complete darkness, especially along that path encased by untamed pines. She eyed the slipping sun as Daryl's returning footsteps vibrated through the dock under her.

Carol licked her lips, options flying through her mind. She was just about to pull in her line when another fish tugged on her hook.

"Get 'em," Daryl encouraged from her shoulder.

Her line swung sideways and then back, went slack and then taut again. Teeth grit, Carol got to her feet for better leverage and then managed to reel in her largest catch of the day. The bass flopped and splashed all over her in protest.

Daryl waited behind the cooler, one hand on his hip, admiration shining in his eyes when she brought him her prize.

Water dripped to the dock from both the fish and her soaked arms. "This one's a fighter!"

"Can see that," Daryl nodded. His palm came to rest against her cheek. "Ya got some mud on ya."

Hands full, Carol stilled as he swiped a thumb across her cheekbone, shivered when he trailed it down behind her jaw. She was just about to tilt her head, offering the target of his gaze, when he grabbed the fish from her grasp.

Her feet shuffled as she watched him swiftly gut and stow the fish. When the lid on the cooler snapped shut and Daryl straightened, Carol enclosed the space, the plastic storage container separating them.

"Ya givin' up?" He asked huskily, eyes hooded and not at all surprised by her strong approach.

"I'm winning, dominating, really," she reminded him, smoothing back a curl behind her ear, heart thudding three times for each word. "You're the one who gave up." She hitched up a hip and shook her head, "You haven't had a line in the water for over an hour."

"Somebody had ta gut those fish." He ended his argument by stuffing his knife back in its sheath. The pulse point on his neck jumped as he ran a finger through a smudge on her shoulder.

Or, she could only guessed there was a smudge. Too caught up in the lighter specks in his irises and the way his tobacco tinged scent replaced the fresh pine and lake water in her nose, her entire body could have been covered in muck and she wouldn't have noticed.

Carol stepped into his touch, the cooler pressed against her shins. "Daryl..."

"Yeah?"

Miles upon miles laid between them and Atlanta, between them and their talk on the bridge. A thousand sultry glances, too many nights that just did not go far enough. They say slow and steady wins the race, but a sprint toward the finish was never a bad strategy. Because, really, they'd been keeping a steady pace for far too long.

Eager, she almost missed his mouth, the angle awkward with the cooler between them, but Daryl dipped low to meet her lips. Chaste and sweet, it was more than enough to weaken her knees and drag a heavy sigh from her. Eager hands latching onto his shoulders, her heart beat out a mantra, _"Finally, finally,_ _finally."_

Lightheaded, Carol pulled away with a clever line on her lips, but Daryl groaned and tripped over the cooler to snap his hands onto her waist. With a growl from him and a gasp from her, he sidestepped the container and swept her up again, his mouth hot on hers, the railing strong against her back. He was too much tongue, but his enthusiasm had her heart singing, and she twisted her fingers into the hair at his nape.

This time, Daryl backed away first, a satisfied hum rumbling in his chest.

"There hasn't...I've been...all day," he panted hotly on her ear. Without further explanation, Daryl ran his hands up her sides, light as mist. He swallowed.

Breathless, Carol brushed the hair from his face before leaning in. "Me too. Couldn't...pass up this opportunity."

Forehead to forehead, they held each other's eyes until Daryl blinked. "To show me up at fishin'?"

It took her a second to realize he was joking. She squeezed his arm with a chuckle and tugged lightly on his collar. "Yeah, looks like I won, by the way, five to one." She slid her nose against his as she finished, "But you're definitely my catch of the day."

"Stop." The short word got caught between a sigh and a groan.

"Never."

But she did trail off when their lips met again.

* * *

The encroaching night eventually prodded them off the dock with the descending sun. She silently cursed the summer day for not being long enough.

Daryl carried the heavy cooler and Carol took the bucket and poles. They let the supplies and fish burden their steps to extend the walk as much as possible.

There hadn't been much to say on the dock, though Carol had had to replace Daryl's arms around her the few times he almost guiltily pulled away. It only took encouraging smiles to entice him back in and a peck on his neck to make him stay, but he still shuddered in her arms.

Even after all those miles, the journey wasn't over just yet.

 _"We'll get there,"_ Carol had reminded herself, inhaling him and that moment so it stayed inside her for as long as possible.

For now, she made due with the mix of shy and giddy grins shared amongst the pines. The blush coloring his face and neck only brightened as the walk continued. They passed the picnic grove closest to the parking lot and her steps instinctively downgraded into shuffles. If she squinted through the trees, Carol could catch the flicker of a fire.

"Hold up," Daryl called just before the RV popped into view. As she turned to him, Daryl dropped the cooler, its contents sloshing. Curious, she also set down her supplies just in time for him to draw her in. Daryl frowned as Abraham's deep voice floated in and out of the air. Fidgeting, he tugged lightly at the hem of her tank top, fingers momentarily sliding along the skin there before withdrawing to her belt loop. "Before we get back..."

Butterflies light in her stomach, she rose to her toes and precisely planted one last kiss on his mouth.

And then he gave her a longer encore.

He only drew back at the sound of nearby commotion and laughter, quick to put a respectable amount of distance between them. While he eyed the path entry with a wide gaze, Carol took the moment to fix her shirt and grabbed his hand to keep him close.

Daryl dipped his head, "Sorry-"

Carol quickly cut him off with a head shake, understanding and accepting his need for discreteness. Thinking back to Maggie and Michonne's teasing, Carol wondered if she also wanted to keep this to themselves, if only to postpone the certain good natured catcalls for a bit longer.

To set him at ease, she smiled and said, "Don't think kissing me will make me forget. You still owe me two Milky Ways."

He squeezed her hand before dropping it to pick up the cooler. "Won't forget. I know where Tara keeps 'em stashed. I'll get 'em to ya tonight."

After one last shared glance, they reentered the campground to the sound of cheers for fried fish and a crackling fire pit. Although Glenn, Rosita, Sasha, and Tyreese lounged on the picnic benches acting as a perimeter, the group could almost be labeled as rowdy. Carl's face was dyed purple with what must have been blueberries. Beth and Maggie were singing songs that would have made their father blush. Rick tossed a squealing Judith into the air.

"Hey!" Abraham called with a wave. "Wait till you two see this baby!" He pounded the side of the RV heartily. "You're gonna wish you hadn't bothered to go fishing!"

Carol looked at Daryl and smirked. "I highly doubt it, Abraham. But we'll take a tour after dinner!"

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I'm back! Took a break to regroup. In case anyone is curious, I have six more chapters planned.

Thanks for reading! If you're enjoying this thing, please consider shooting me some feedback! It feeds the muse! -randomcat23


	10. 382 Miles

**Disclaimer:** Nope, I don't own The Walking Dead. Or the song lyrics used in this chapter.

* * *

 **382 Miles**

Rick had decided they would drive straight until evening to swing around Raleigh and the surrounding communities. It was a good call, the right call. Traversing densely populated cities at night was a death trap. At least during the day they had a better shot of seeing a herd before it was impossible to retreat.

The trade off was everyone broiled in the vehicles.

It was only mid morning and sweat already beaded on their lips and hands. Glenn had taken his shirt off not twenty minutes into the drive. In her copilot seat, Maggie folded the map and fanned her forehead. Glistening and sticky, they all agreed to preserve precious gas and not run the AC, instead cranking the fan dials to maximum settings.

Conversation died as the temperature in the cab increased. To compensate, Maggie force fed the CD player discs without much success.

Carol's slick cheek suctioned itself to the window, her outward ear picking up the clicking of the malfunctioning CD player. On any other day she'd desire nothing more than a nap in the shade and a glass of water. But yesterday she had kissed Daryl on a dock and this morning, under the shield of darkness, he had pried open her dew soaked sleeping bag and greeted her the same way.

Recalling his wandering hands and the stroke of his tongue, she squirmed against the hot glass. Carol turned her gaze to the other side of the bench where Daryl plucked at his soaked shirt. The fabric immediately fell back to clinging the dips and swells of his chest and abdomen.

She swallowed. Even in this sweltering heat, she was preoccupied with the thought of running her hands through his tussled hair, planting her lips on his cheek and jaw before finding his mouth; body heat be damned.

 _"Maybe during a stop we could really test out this backseat..."_

It's not like Maggie didn't suspect, and by extension, Glenn probably had it figured out.

She briefly frowned and scolded herself, _"We agreed to keep this quiet!"_

Carol licked her lower lip. Prying her face off the glass, she hid another glance behind an overhead stretch. But her shifting did not go unnoticed; Daryl returned her stare through the hair plastered to his forehead.

It was a mess, both the heat and the inability to carry out all the desires in her head. Naked cuddles in the sleeping blankets? Fingers trailing the kisses she'd plant down his body? In the end, Carol squirmed and tucked all of that away-They still had several days left in a car.

 _"Are we really going to keep this hidden until Richmond? Or even after that?"_

Carol tilted her head back and sighed.

"Well, so much for Kenny Loggins," Maggie bemoaned and wiped her neck. Her sudden exasperation drew both passengers' attention. A breeze rushed in the opened window as she tossed the busted disc out the window like a small Frisbee.

Both Carol and Daryl leaned into the current and, like a magnet, their bare arms stuck together.

"How are you guys doing back there?"

"Fine!" Carol garbled and inched away to put space between their skins. "Too bad none of those CDs worked."

Glenn tapped out a beat on the steering wheel, turning it just enough to dodge a festering mass in the middle of the lane. "It might just be the CD player," he said, exasperated as his wife pushed in yet another disc.

 _Click, click, click._

"Give it a second." Maggie stroked the buttons with care.

 _Click._

They all jumped the second the strum of a guitar came out of the speakers. A few more notes played without a hitch, the uninterrupted strand of chords sweet to the ears like lemonade.

The car collectively held its breath, until Glenn identified the artist and groaned, "You gotta be kidding me. Keith Urban?"

"Beggars can't be choosers!" As if on command, the CD skipped, clicking into an obnoxious rattling noise until Maggie sighed and pushed the track button.

"Is that Brittany Spears?" Carol piped up from the backseat, eager for a distraction from Daryl and his muscle-clinging clothing.

The pop song cut off when Glenn overrode Maggie's hand with his own. "I don't care if it's the only track that works. I'm driving and I say no to that."

The next track started well enough, a second batch of country guitar strings.

"Fine, Glenn, it's Keith Urban then," Maggie said smugly. Over the rush of the fan, Maggie began singing the old song enthusiastically, " _'Said you needed your space.._. '"

When the chorus hit, Carol stuck her head through the gap in the eats and joined in, finally able to piece the lyrics together. Line after line, her voice gained strength and soon her and Maggie gestured and sang over Glenn's groans.

"' _No, don't say that you're sorry, and I won't say I told you so_!'"

"I haven't heard this in such a long time." Maggie clapped and began humming again. Her soft voice carried well over the blowing fan.

With a bobbing nod, Carol picked up the song, " _'Oh, can't you see? That for worse or for better, we're better together. Please_ -'"

A low murmur joined their voices, a slightly out-of-tune purr. Carol tilted her ear to catch it, hypothesizing that it might be the overburdened air fan finally choking on a trapped particle. Leaning back, she gasped at Daryl's fluttering lips. "Daryl Dixon! Are you singing Keith Urban?!"

"Was played at every damn bar for years," he grumbled the excuse, blushing, and immediately ceased his humming.

Carol slid back alongside Daryl with the vision of him hunched over on a bar stool, doing his best to ignore Merle's antics in the background, clear as day in her head. It was the kind of fantasy that invited old nostalgia for after work beers and the simple act of pushing through a door without worry about the danger behind it.

"Or you really just like it," she teased softly, tickled she caught him in the act.

 _Clack, clack, clack, clack!_

The collective sigh was split fifty-fifty along gender lines between relief and disappointment. Maggie chucked the broken disc out the window. Once again the car was dosed in thick stillness. Carol slouched against Daryl with an exhale.

"You think they have working electronics in Richmond?" Maggie propped her elbow on the car door.

"You think they'll have bars?" Glenn asked. "Daryl mentioned it and now all I can think about is a cold beer. And ice."

They all chuckled at the preposterous idea of old world comforts. Light laughter fell into thoughtful silence, the fantasy too tantalizing to let go.

"This is our best shot," Daryl eventually said. "The Capital and all."

"I hope we can find a place," Glenn said as they passed a gutted gas station and a collapsed fruit stand.

"We will," Maggie assured her husband.

"We'll make a place if we have to," Daryl asserted and then glanced down at Carol. A thought got caught on his tongue and he paused to collect himself. Daryl then inched his arm behind Carol's shoulders and pulled her close. "We all get to start over."

"That's right," she half whispered and her heart swelled.

"It's gotta have walls. Solid walls," Glenn declared.

Maggie suggested hopefully, "And showers?"

Their driver laughed and idly scratched the back of his hand. Following her lead, Glenn proposed, "What about warm, no, hot showers?"

"Soap and-"

"Ice cream!"

"Well, now that we're getting outrageous, I'd like to put in a request for actual rooms with real doors." Maggie crossed her arms and let out a wistful sigh.

At the idea of solid doors that lock and how easy it would be to hide discarded clothing, Carol squeezed Daryl's thigh and heartily cheered, "I can get behind that!"

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Holy crap, this thing. I'm in love with it concept-wise, but it's been kicking my butt when it comes to writing it. Believe it or not, I've had the rest of the chapters planned out for months. I know exactly where it's going. I just can't. Get. It. To. Cooperate.

Hopefully I'll get some more chapters up soon.

Shoot me your thoughts if you have the time. Thanks for reading!-randomcat23


	11. 434 Miles

**Disclaimer:** Randomcat23 does not own The Walking Dead.

* * *

 **434 Miles**

The RV bumped along the road, leading their small caravan of three vehicles. Behind the wheel, Abraham gave commentary on the surrounding area while Eugene refuted everything that the ginger said. Father Gabriel made tentative conversation with Tara while wringing his hands, the newest members slowly forming bonds.

One-hundred and thirty-thirty miles loomed between them and Richmond.

After discovering the only deck of cards was short by three and when their hands stung from too many rounds of Hot Hands, Noah and Beth had turned to gossip to pass the time. Turned cheeks and hushed breath helped them exchange small bits about the others, a few _I heard that's_ , _she said this's_ , _there's no way's_.

Like, _"Who is the monster that ate the last chocolate chip granola bar?"_

Or, _"Does Eugene have a thing for Rosita?"_

When the topic cropped too close to the harder questions (Would Noah stay with his parents? What would Beth do if he did?), they stuttered to halt. The future was exciting and frightening at the same time. Beth dropped the strand of hair she had been worrying and stared out the window at the passing fields because it was safer than looking at her boyfriend.

"You guys can stay for a few days, figure it all out." Noah compromised after the quiet extends too long.

Drawers clicked open and shut. The sound of shuffling paper piqued Beth's curiosity enough to draw her back into the conversation.

"If Abraham lets us," she started, arms crossed and then, eyeing his new activity, interrupted herself, "What are you drawing?"

He leaned back from his work and gestured over it. "My house." When Beth peered over the lines and boxes and labels, but quirked her brow, Noah clarified, "We gotta figure out where everyone is going to sleep, right?"

His soft grin was infectious. "Pfft, right."

The detail was surprisingly good for a quick sketch. There was the walkway to the front door and squiggles indicating trees. With a few more strokes and some neat handwriting, Noah laid out each room, door, and even the windows.

"It's summer, so a few people can sleep on the enclosed porch, maybe Rick and his family?"

Beth shrugged, slightly more concerned with the box labeled "Noah" at the back of the house, than where Rick and Judith would stay.

Noah continued anyway, "Okay, so Glenn and your sister have been together since the farm, so they get a bed." Noah tapped his index finger on one of the smaller bedrooms and then slid between that room and the basement. "How long have Carol and Daryl been together? Before that?"

"Wh-What?" A deep belly laugh shook through her. "They're not together!"

"Wait..." He curled his pointer finger, his entire understanding dashed.

Beth shook her head with a light laugh, "Yeah no, there's no way..."

"You're kidding me," Noah sighed in disbelief. "I thought for sure...in Atlanta. Are you _sure_?"

"I've known them much longer than you!" Her voice rose indignant, even as she leaned over and kissed Noah's cheek. Point made, she rolled her eyes. "I think I'd _know_ if they had gotten together."

"Well...there's something there," Noah concluded half-heartedly, distracted by her sudden display of affection. For a few seconds, he simply stared at his drawing while Beth continued to giggle.

"There's no way that redneck has any moves," Abraham added from the driver's seat, ceasing all other discussions and stoking the conversation fire. By doing so, he opened it up to others who then threw in their two sticks of input.

Father Gabriel made noncommittal _hms_ and _ahs_ , tilting his head this way and that.

"Oh, they're definitely together," Rosita stated.

Eugene folded the map and pointed out, "I have not seen any physical affection between the two. However, they are always together without fail."

Defensively, Beth piped up, "They're...they're...best friends. I...we used to talk about them at the prison, but..." she trailed off, frowning, now unsure of her observations.

"They're _always_ together," Tara repeated, as if that was enough for her to confirm the relationship. Seated across from the two teenagers, she raised her eyebrows at them confidently and shook a pair of crossed fingers at Beth. "Like this!"

"Yeah, but so are Rick and Michonne," Beth countered with a shrug, trying to show ownership of the topic. "Some people just gravitate-"

"Wait...are Rick and Michonne together?" Noah's eyes grew to the size of plates and Tara giggled.

Beth spun on him. "What? No way!"

* * *

Daryl steered and Carol wore the mantle of copilot. Besides sideways glances, brief hand squeezes or a stroke along a thigh, there was no sign of them being together.

Maggie saw (and grinned). Glenn knew (acknowledging it the other day only by tossing a condom at Daryl), but the younger couple curled up in the back and said nothing about it.

Outside, farm buildings fell behind into grassy fields and then back into small towns. It was after they passed a sign for Milton, North Carolina that Carol hummed, "Beth and Noah are cute together."

"What?" Daryl spat and the car jerked.

"Daryl," she laughed, "You haven't noticed?"

"I've seen nothin'," he says, flabbergasted. "Sounds like gossip to me."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I'm still sad we never got more Beth/Noah.

Not a lot of Caryl in this one, but I couldn't help but have everyone gossip about them, even if it's just a bit. Hopefully this is slightly amusing, ha!

Thanks for reading!-randomcat23


	12. 479 Miles

**Disclaimer:** Randomcat23 does not own The Walking Dead.

* * *

 **479 Miles**

"Shit!"

Carol jabbed a finger at the windshield in time with Daryl slamming on the breaks. The car skidded sideways, stopping out of range of the rising water currently sucking up the van. In a blink, the taillights ahead went out.

Without a second's hesitation, Daryl yelled, "Gotta get 'em out!"

Four doors opened in unison and they sprinted to rescue Rick, Michonne, Carl, and Judith. They hit the water with a splash and slammed into the bumper of the troubled van. Daryl braced his shoulder on the back window. Carol, followed by Maggie and Glenn, stepped into position beside him.

A blinding torrent of rain rushed sideways off the road, bubbling and frothing over the stick-clogged sewer system. It surged to their knees.

"Don't gas it!" Daryl warned Rick, who, with his head out the window, was just as wet as any of them.

"It already stalled out," Rick shouted back as he joined and readied a push.

The sky lit up with a crack of lightning. She couldn't hear her cries, but Carol caught a glimpse of Judith wailing in the back seat with her brother.

"Let's go!" Glenn gave the first push. The rest joined him. At first, it only rocked and water slurped up the wheel wells.

"Come on!" Maggie pled.

With a few more grunts and curses the car lurched and then rolled. They all went white under a lightning flash and a timely roll of thunder as the front half of the car cleared the water.

"Almost there!" Rick's ragged encouragement rang out over the pinging of rain.

Slick pavement hindered their progress, but their boots eventually reappeared from the murky mess. With the rain running through their fingers, a last push and a collective groan were enough to get the car onto the slight rise and out of the deep puddle.

Gasping, they all swiveled between the devious puddle and the busted car. Rick checked in with Carl and Michonne while rain topped off their boots. Carol squinted down the road but couldn't find the RV through the storm. A few stomps in that direction revealed nothing but grey. Just as she opened her mouth to voice concern, the sky lightened and the rain tapered off. Carol shielded her face to watch the last jagged ribbon of lightning propel the black cloud mass into the distance.

One more spurt of rain dribbled on their upturned faces.

"Shit," Rick cursed.

Daryl spat, hands on his hips.

A few drops slid off Glenn's thick hair as he shrugged and tried to turn the van's engine.

"She's a goner," he confirmed, tapping the roof.

"RV's gonna get pretty cozy, eh?" Abraham, frustration coloring his face, appeared at the top of the rise. The rest of the crew emptied from the now visible RV fifty yards down the road.

"For now," Rick amended, the gears in his head already turning.

"For awhile," Abraham shot back.

While Rick and Abraham discussed the logistics of squeezing ten people and a baby into the RV, or the possibility of trying to find another car, Carol leaned against the front bumper of the dead vehicle and wrung out her shirt. Uncaring, the wet material clung to her body.

Daryl joined her. He pushed the hair back from his forehead and said, "Rough break."

Carol shook the water off her hands. The rain had dyed everything from his crown to his boots a darker color. With all his angles highlighted, her fingers itched to outline every muscle. It was a fool's wish, now that their time alone was to be cut short. No amount of reorganization was going to change the fact that with less than a hundred miles to go, seat space was at a premium.

"Looks like we're going to have to give up our backseat privileges," she hummed, twisting a second spot on her shirt. A little waterfall splattered on the road.

"Could just take over drivin'," Daryl suggested.

Carol laughed lightly at his hopeful tone. "Glenn likes it too much. And Maggie goes with him as a pair."

He raised a hand to gesture between them only to drop it when Tyreese stepped up to empty the van. As he retreated and was replaced by Father Gabriel, Daryl frowned. Carol grabbed his shirt hem to stop his imminent pacing.

"Richmond's not too far," she reasoned under her breath, trying to convince him as well as herself. It was silly to be disappointed about the situation, even if the truth stung. Her small dream to finish this journey as they started, side by side, just wasn't meant to be. With their relationship still in the shadows, size would assign their places. Carol herself may end up in the backseat with Beth and Tara as her car mates, the three of them thinner, shorter, and _mostly_ single.

To make herself feel better, Carol added a soft tease, "This could be good for us. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder."

Daryl shook his head insistently, "Naw, not interested."

She crossed her arms and wistfully said, "Face it, Pookie, we're going to be split up."

Daryl proceeded to scowl at their family milling about and the RV. He tapped his toe on the van with a huff. Already resigned to their fate, Carol witnessed his obvious disappointment with something akin to amusement. Of course the chaotic order of the universe would separate them since they got together. But her heart fluttered over their shared frustration.

His gaze back on her, Daryl's eyes softened and he stepped closer.

Those muscles she had eyed earlier were now within reach. Carol tightened her fingers around the van's hood to quell that thought. Somebody had to keep up appearances with Daryl being uncharacteristically invasive. Pushing him away would only grab attention. She pretended to take interest in the wood line, but whipped back forward when Daryl nudged himself between her knees.

Conflict froze her; she instantly expected him to realize the situation and stalk off while simultaneously desiring to wrap her legs around him. Carol watched him anxiously, her neck burning under the blooming attention of those around them; Tyreese picked up a supply box just a little too slowly. Beth skittered on some rocks behind Daryl while doing a double take.

Carol squeezed her legs against his and cocked her head with a question and a final warning.

Daryl caught her chin and tipped it upward. For a sweet moment their family faded to a hazy backdrop. The world narrowed to her immediate sensations, the warm metal under her palms and the sturdiness of his jean-clad legs against hers. There was a deep calm in his eyes that prepared her for what happened next. She was already smiling when Daryl kissed her, his lips still cool from the rain. Carol hooked an ankle around his calf and tugged on his shirt, parting her lips to invite him deeper.

"Holy motherballs!" Abe bellowed. "Since when is _that_ a thing?"

A loud crash answered Abe; Beth had dropped a tub of supplies.

Their noses bumped as Daryl flinched and retreated to touching foreheads. Pleasure and surprise tightening her stomach, Carol ended the display with one last peck. Daryl offered a lop-sided smile and held her hand as she slid off the hood with a pert shimmy to face her family.

Like an old western, both sides waited for the other to give an inch. Carol squeezed Daryl's hand as a breeze whistled up the road. Quietly snorting, she half expected a tumbleweed to follow.

Someone's boots squished. Rick's eyes dazzled and Maggie buried a chuckle in her shoulder. Michonne and Tyreese exchanged a look. Noah coughed.

Daryl was just beginning to fidget when Eugene shattered the silence. "I always thought it perplexing that they spent so much time together and never expressed any physical affection. It was evident that-"

"Shut the hell up." Rosita's chide was followed by a grunt, prompted by a swift elbow to the ribs. "They're beautiful."

* * *

Glenn clapped Daryl on the back. "Alright, lovebirds. You've earned it." He dangled a set of keys in front of Daryl, who quickly snatched them.

"Thanks."

Carol smirked at the red flush crawling up his neck and threw her bag into the front seat with a pleased hum.

"Take care of her!" Glenn patted the hood of the vehicle but also winked at Carol before leading Maggie to the RV.

Daryl scratched his temple and said sheepishly, "Sorry."

"I'm not mad about it," she started, pressing two fingers to her lips. "I just thought we were keeping it discrete."

"Ain't no way I'm sitting next to Eugene." Daryl muttered under his breath and gave her a rough kiss on her cheek before opening the driver's door. He stooped and then forgetting something, straightened.

After biting the inside of his cheek he clarified, "Wasn't just 'cause of the car, ya know."

"I know."

The day he carried her out of Grady Memorial it was clear. Then came all those moments in the backseat together, sharing stories, heat, and kisses. Burdening him with her troubles, Daryl holding her while she cried. There never really was any doubt. He was hers. She was his.

Daryl nodded in approval, flushing. He then slapped a palm on the roof. "Just looked too damn good."

"Thank you, Pookie," Carol beamed.

"Are you guys going to be like this the whole drive?" Beth asked, exasperated.

"Oh, I hope so," Tara chimed. "The will-they-won't-they couples are always better once they confess."

Over his shoulder Daryl growled, "Shut up and get in."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Cat's out of the bag, now! :D

Just a head's up: The rating for this fic will change to M with the next chapter.

Thanks for reading! Any feedback is lovely.-randomcat23


	13. 534 Miles

**Disclaimer:** Nope, I don't own anything from The Walking Dead.

Please note the rating changed to 'M' for this chapter due to sexual situations.

* * *

 **534 Miles**

The truck stop was much like the prison: an expansive parking lot surrounded by green and abundant picnic tables. Easy smiles replaced the cramped frowns after being cooped up in close quarters for too long. Carol watched Daryl disappear into the woods in search of dinner and was flooded with memories of their last home.

Maybe that was why she could not suppress the shiver that crawled up her spine when Rick approached. She tried, unsuccessfully, to shake off her unease with a reminder, _"He welcomed you back."_

Apparently old grudges did not die along state lines.

She mustered a smile and in silence they maneuvered the tables into a barrier separating the woods from the vehicles. Sasha was posted on the roof of nearby pavilion, rifle ready. Abraham and Tyreese manned the RV while Glenn, Maggie, and Tara paroled the perimeter. Even though they hadn't seen a herd larger than twenty in weeks, paranoia had kept them alive. Carol held her breath, her own paranoia upping her pulse.

Brows high, Rick finally asked, "What do you think about this?"

Carol cleared the knot in her throat before answering, "Stopping? Good for morale, bad for safety."

"I have Eugene plotting our route off highways." He nodded at the state route over his shoulder and said, "They're only going to get worst the closer we get to Richmond. And I want everyone to be ready for when this goes south."

Drugged and disoriented she hadn't questioned the decision to go to Richmond. It seemed as good a place as any since Georgia had betrayed them again and again. Then, as her relationship with Daryl grew and took priority, Richmond continued to be more of a filler word rather than an actual goal. However, now that they were within striking distance the exciting promise of civilization was tainted by the very real threat every population center offered.

They positioned the last picnic table to complete the defensive arc. Hand shielding her eyes from the sun, Carol took in the wide space between the tree line and the vehicles, trying to identify the source of teenage laughter. Locating it, she smiled at the trio of Carl, Beth, and Noah cleaning knives under a large tree.

They had lost the van two days ago. It hadn't taken long for people to start snapping at each other in the tighter compartments. If there was trouble ahead, clear heads were necessary. Hence the overnight stay. The risk was worth it; well rested and well fed, the group could prepare for this crucial next step.

With another glance at the relaxed adolescents her stomach settled. "We need this."

"Abraham wants to drive straight into Richmond, then the Capitol." Rick's tone was condescending as he stroked the rough wood grain. "There's probably nothing there."

She agreed with him but countered, "We won't know that till we get there. It'll be good to be prepared."

Tables placed and affirmation received, Rick moved on to his next task.

Carol watched his retreating back, arms across her body as if she could contain the sprouting seed of doubt Rick had planted. Doubt about her place, doubt that he wouldn't turn on her again.

 _"You agreed with him this time,"_ a nasty voice reminded her. Carol shook her head and went to find something to keep herself occupied.

She took up bathroom duty, another left over job from the prison. Setting buckets of water to sit in the sun, grabbing towels, and setting a washing schedule filled the rest of the day with tiny flashes of déjà vu. Like so many times before, Daryl remained on the hunt. Chatting with Michonne about meal logistics was a comforting practice. Catching Rick's eye from across the parking lot, a familiar and unsettling one.

Rosita exited the bathroom, damp and pleased.

Tara went in with her own bucket of water.

Carol bit her lip and kept them moving.

It wasn't her intention, necessarily, to be last. Like everything else about this place, it was an old habit left over from the prison. The extended stay near the bathroom led her to relive daydreams she had set aside when Rick kicked her out. Now, for the sake of her sanity she latched on to them. Practically, they were safer than dwelling on the uncertainty she felt about their leader. In time, they grew more enticing and enchanting.

How many times had she entertained the idea of meeting Daryl in the showers under the cover of night? Her face warmed as she allowed herself to reconsider those thoughts.

Why not take advantage of four walls, water, and nubs of soap?

When Daryl emerged from the woods with at least one string of squirrels and rabbits dangling from his arms, Carol nodded at Maggie and then went to haul her own bucket.

* * *

Carol dunked a rag into the lukewarm water and washed away days of grime. If this was going to work, she needed to be quick. A few wipes under her arms and between her legs. Just enough to rid herself of sweat and stink. Once the door closed behind her, she tried not to think about what could happen, preferring to let her thoughts trail off after acknowledging she was luring Daryl into the bathroom.

Alone.

The first hint of barbeque smoke floated in through an open window, meaning whatever Daryl had caught had been handed off for cooking. Her stomach rumbled in appreciation.

There was only the slightest resistance in her shoulder when Carol pulled her shirt over her head. She rolled it a few times to loosen the muscles there and then shivered in her bra despite the humidity. Luckily, her undergarments were lined with a little bit of lace, a chance decision that had paid off. She remembered setting aside two similar pieces at the prison and feeling indulgent.

Now she was finally getting use out of a little selfishness.

The dim light coming in through the upper windows wasn't doing her any favors, but it wasn't awful either. The speckled mirror reflected lightly tanned skin, finally healed after weeks of sporting bruises. She pivoted back and forth, noting the slight definition of her ribs.

Trailing a finger over the rise and fall on her torso, she thought, _"I hope Daryl had a productive hunt."_

She jumped when the bathroom door rattled under a knock.

"Come on in." Her greeting came out higher than she intended.

"Maggie said-"

Carol inhaled deeply. She focused on the grout between the tiles on the wall, waiting for and then hearing him round the corner and stutter to a complete stop.

Cicadas buzzing nearby filled in the silence while Daryl shifted his weight and took her in with a parted mouth. There was no mistaking his surprise and Carol dropped her gaze, focusing on the holes in his jeans, the way his arms dangled. If her skin was tan, Daryl's was dark and not just dirty from walking in the woods. She wanted to see the contrast against hers. Carol swallowed a lump before holding out a damp wash cloth.

"I can't get my back."

How many times had she welcomed him back at the prison as he was now? Dirty, exhausted, hungry. Plenty of times, but never once half-naked and adequately hidden from prying eyes.

He approached slowly, gaze dark, arms limp, leaving muddy prints where his boots trekked through puddles. As Daryl grabbed the cloth, their fingers touched, zapping them both and they flinched in unison.

She turned around again, exposing her back. "Please."

Daryl began on her neck and with the first, soft swipe, all caution washed away. In short strokes he outlined her shoulder blades and her spine, taking care to follow each divot. Her eyelids fluttered. A little sigh escaped her lips when he dared to brush the underside of her breast. By the time he reached the small of her back there was more of his hand than rag on her, his fingers finding ways to touch skin.

Then Daryl abandoned the cloth and it fell to the ground with a wet plop. His breath was hot on her ear before he bit her earlobe and pressed his hips against her ass.

"What are ya doin'?" The question got muffled as he ground himself against her.

"Thought we could use..."

 _A chance for what we squandered at the prison and may not get after this._

His hands trailed her sides, tickled her ribs, pressed the soft flesh above her jeans. Daryl groaned into the crook of her neck before chasing the low sound with a kiss. Carol reached back to run her fingers through his hair.

"Some privacy," she breathily finished, twisting in his arms to capture his mouth with her own.

His hands snapped to her hips, pulling the two of them flush. Frustrated, she hooked his right thumb and pushed it to her breast still stuck in her bra. They both moaned. Fast and eager fingers traveled further along the top of her jeans, inching closer and closer to her zipper. She urged him on, bucking into his grasp. He picked up the pace along her waistline, forgetting any attempts to tease.

 _"So much for getting clean."_ Carol looped her arm around him, desperate for more contact.

There must be dusty smudges on her tan skin now.

 _"I'll look at those in the mirror next,"_ she thought idly with a smirk and a sharp inhale as the button on her jeans was unlatched.

Then his fingers stopped and Carol's heart with it.

A low sound emerged from the back of his throat as Daryl outlined the cigarette burn on her hip. The heat, stoked so fiercely between them, faded with the discovery. His lips left her throat, her palms found the wall. The darkness left in Daryl's gaze swirled with sadness and a touch of fear.

Carol sighed heavily. She had practically forgotten about it. Ed was dead and gone; he had no power over her anymore, but the deep furrows on Daryl's brow tightened her chest.

How could they move forward when they hadn't completely rid themselves of the past?

"Punishment for the first _and_ last time I called the cops," she answered his unasked question.

He responded with a low rumble, gaze locked on her waist. She wanted to replace his hands and rush passed this. She wanted him to roughly push her against the wall and let them have this wild moment where they didn't have to address her shitty husband, scars, or damaged parts of their psyche.

Her head fell into Daryl's neck and she kissed him, hoping to bring him back from whatever hole he had fallen into. Without so much as glancing at her he caressed the spot with tiny, feather-light touches.

She cupped the swell of his biceps. "Daryl-"

He slid out of her grasp, bending a knee, and glared intently at her scar. Trembling, he pressed his lips to the small blemish. She leaned into him, her heart painfully tight. With a soothing stroke on her thigh Daryl finally let his eyes meet hers and said, "Gotta tell me if I hurt ya."

Carol frowned at his certainty. "You won't-"

The shift was subtle, but determination set in with the slightest tilt to his lips. He tugged a little at her jeans, admiration shining in his eyes. "Never been good at this."

Her rebuttal was sucked back in as he dragged a knuckle down the front seam of her pants. Now aware of his intentions, Carol shuddered. "You don't have to, I..."

He smirked lightly at the hitch in her breath and tried again, reigniting that delicious fire in her core. Anticipation bubbled and pooled with every light touch, arching her spine, stealing her breath.

"I wanna," he drawled, low and hungry. "Promised I'd go down first, right?"

She choked on his name and admitted, "Didn't think you'd remember that."

She laughed at his snort and stepped backward, nearly slipping on a wet spot, but Daryl guided her to the wall. The tile was cool against her exposed shoulders. Carol weaved her fingers through his hair just in time for him to undo her zipper. At her nod, all pretense was lost and he slid her panties down just far enough. Then she gasped as he gave her a first tentative lick.

Carol angled her hips and encouraged him with short directions. "Yes. There."

Fingers dug into the back of her thighs as he sucked. Directions dissolved into moans and telling tugs on his locks. His self doubt proved to be a non-issue as his eagerness and attentiveness made up for any weak technique.

Carol titled her head back, all awareness occupied on his mouth and growing coil of fire in her belly. When she risked a look down her frame to meet his brazen stare, it nearly undid her. She huffed lightly; the effort to prolong this proving impossible. A tiny yelp and a plea escaped her as she peaked and then she came, grinding out his name once more before shuddering and failing against the wall for purchase. Strong hands gripping her hips held her upright.

"Oh, God," she muttered.

He chuckled. While her rapid pulse slowed, Daryl righted her underwear and fixed the waistband of her jeans. Deed complete, he shyly kept his head dipped, but when he ran the back of his hand over his mouth it revealed a prideful smirk.

She laughed.

"Come here," she begged, dragging him upright. Tiny waves of bliss washed over her, twitching her against his hard frame. Unwilling to let the moment lapse, she cupped his face and kissed him before trailing caresses down his chest. A stern hand on her wrist stopped her exploration just has it reached his belt.

"Ain't gonna do this in a truck stop bathroom." He scuffed his boot along a smear on the floor.

She frowned at his soft rejection and took in their environment. A deep flush of red from the setting sun coated the room in front of them. Shadows crept up the walls slowly but steadily. With a squint, she could still make out the tile pattern on the opposite wall. Blood singing, Carol made another attempt for his buckle.

"We may not get another chance," she pointed out.

Daryl jumped and cut her off with a husky growl and a heavy kiss. He released her wrist and wove their fingers together.

"No," he insisted, throatiness giving away his desire. He pressed his forehead to hers, angling his hips away from her. Braced against the wall with one arm, Daryl lightly touched her old scar. "I wanna do right by you. We'll get another chance. Better one."

"You don't know that." Carol trapped his fidgeting hand over her side.

Daryl pulled back only to narrow his eyes at her. After biting the inside of his cheek he explained, "Ya deserve better than a quick fuck against the wall."

The rosy glow just minutes before had deepened to plum. Regret burned in the back of her throat as darkness smothered his eyes. The loss of light wasn't something she'd considered. They used to have those damn lights at the prison. She fidgeted in his grasp.

"You know that's not what this is," Carol declared while fumbling for him, sneaking her fingers between two of his shirt buttons for the slick muscles there. "I pulled you in here-"

"I love ya."

The intricacies of his expression were lost in the shadow. If he wasn't so close she would have missed his breathy confession. No matter how hushed it was, it clenched her chest and took away her breath. The feeling had been there for so long that she had almost forgotten they never named it.

"I love you, too." The tears were an unexpected addition. She wiped at them furiously while he crushed her against him.

"When we get to Richmond, when we get a place of our own...," he trailed off with a groan. Nose nudging hers, he slowly found her mouth and kissed her.

In disbelief Carol noted, "You sound fairly certain about that."

"Gotta be."

Ever since they left Atlanta, she had wanted to rush. Impatient, because they had nearly lost each other and then once given the chance, still took their sweet time getting anywhere, let alone _getting off_. Daryl putting off sex because of an indecent bathroom and a bit of darkness was a sweet gesture, reasonable only if that ideal tomorrow was guaranteed.

She wasn't sure she was convinced they would get that. It had been a long time since she'd put faith in the future. But, momentarily remembering how this journey started, her doubtful about everything, and knowing how far they had come, Carol resigned to his decision. Brushing back the hair stuck to his forehead, she returned his kiss.

She was willing to try for him.

After a quiet moment in his arms she blushed a little with guilt. "Damn it, Daryl," Carol teased lightly. "This was supposed to be good for both of us."

He huffed and shrugged in the dark. Grabbing her hand, he squeezed and promised gruffly, "It was."

She could hear the smirk in his simple response and it dragged a grin across her cheeks.

* * *

The food was good, the company was better. The burned coals glowed in the middle of their circle as Carl pointed out constellations to Beth and Noah, both with their heads tipped back. Tonight no one teased them about their entwined fingers. Judith crawled on a blanket, preoccupied with the spiral pattern while Sasha and Tara giggled at the baby's fascination.

There wasn't much to say besides some requests for a certain dish of food to be passed. Everyone seemed in favor of listening to the crickets while they filled themselves.

Carol let go of Daryl's hand as they reached the circle. After parting in the bathroom, she had helped him clean up in the sink, running her nails over his scalp. Kissing her finger tips in thanks, Daryl quickly washed up and led them out of the bathroom before she could make him regret his decision to keep most of their clothes on.

His hair now hung limply over his face, but she knew he returned the smile she gave him. Scrubbed clean, Carol relished the slide of fresh clothing on her skin. Daryl grabbed an offered plate and took his place beside her.

Nearly everyone else had finished their meal, so only Carol and Daryl where picking at their share when Rick stood and hoisted his cup.

"We're nearing Richmond. We might even make it there tomorrow." He glanced around the circle, pausing briefly on Noah. "Eugene's got a good route planned, but we need to be ready for anything."

Michonne rose to meet him. "There are blankets so we can spread out. The vehicle seats are an option too, but take advantage of the space."

"Michonne's right. This could be our last night to relax," Rick added with enough hint of darkness to hammer home his point; Richmond was their goal, but it would require a fight. "We're setting up double guards since we're out in the open. But everyone should still get a solid six hours. So rest up."

"To Richmond." Glenn cheered like a battle cry and a celebration.

A journey that started in a deadly hospital was nearing its end with its promise of civilization, of walls and rooms. For the kids to grow up in a place that would give them a chance. For the rest of them to find time to heal and remake their lives. After 500 miles, broken vehicles, and close calls, they were nearly there.

Carol's arm slid up alongside Daryl's while the entire group raised their drinks.

"To Richmond!"

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Whew! This thing turned into a beast. I've got one chapter left to go!

Was this occ? I'm not sure anymore! *runs away* Not that it matters a lot, but this is my first, published attempt at anything remotely sexy, so feedback would be greatly appreciated!

Thanks for reading!-randomcat23


	14. 567 Miles

**Disclaimer:** Nope, they're not mine.

Last chapter!

* * *

 **567 Miles**

Beth was usually good at picking up whispers. The skill came naturally when an older sister liked to sneak boyfriends into her bedroom. It was crucial to have a secret weapon when it came to tattle-telling and getting away with mischief. With the dead walking, she felt it gave her the unique ability to read the tension in a room, even if she only picked up a few words.

Except today.

No doubt Daryl and Carol were discussing valid concerns in the front seat. The car just passed the sign for Richmond and turned onto the street Noah had pointed to. Tara added something to the conversation, Daryl grunted in response.

At this point, Beth let their murmurs get lost in the hum of the vehicle. She fisted her shorts and stared at Noah with wide eyes.

"Are you scared?"

He swallowed the obligatory 'no' and focused on the clear roadway over her shoulder. It irked her that they had put this off because now it was all crashing down on them at once. At the same time, she couldn't bring herself to regret this carefree road trip. She bit her lip and waited.

After a moment, Noah grabbed her hand and said, "Yes."

All the difficult admissions they had toed over the last few weeks were wrapped up in that one word and small gesture.

 _Yes, I am scared._

 _I don't know what will happen if my parents are there._

 _Or are not there._

 _I need you with me._

Him admitting it let her expel the breath she had been holding. Traversing this together, even if they were both afraid, made it bearable. It made her admit it.

"Me too."

Noah offered a hopeful smile and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Their hands remained clasped as they turned forward to face their destination.

* * *

They perched on a gentle rise, the defensive angle of the cars second nature at this point. It never took long to adapt in the apocalypse, quick uptake was a necessity. However, it did take a long time to _get_ anywhere.

Fallen trees, flooded waterways, walkers, unexpected storms. At just over two weeks they finally reached the point on the map. Yet, even with all those miles and obstacles traveled, sometimes the greatest accomplishment was closing the space between two people.

Carol reached out to grab Daryl's hand and was comforted by the familiarity of his calluses.

From their view atop the car, Richmond sprawled before them. Or, at least, Noah's family's suburb. The lack of burnt out roofs was promising; the lack of movement had yet to be labeled good or bad.

Daryl readjusted his crossbow and the car sunk and rose slightly. He broke the silence.

"Made it."

"Journey's not over yet." Carol steadied herself on his knee and then slid off the vehicle. With a sober nod, he joined her and stabilized himself with a hand to her lower back.

They've come a long way since the hospital.

They've come even a longer way since the quarry.

Gun clips clicked into place. With a _swoosh_ , Michonne beheaded the nearest walker. Sasha and Rosita backed her up with their knives. Rick pocketed a flare gun; if they ran into trouble, that was the signal for Tyreese, Rosita, and the rest to drive the cars in for a rescue.

At first, though, the group would go in on foot. Noah leading the way, Beth, his shadow. Rick and Michonne, Sasha, Daryl and Carol were to follow. If they were lucky, Noah's parents would be alive and well. Luckier still if their walled community remained as such, a community. The idea of a bed soothed Carol's aching shoulder.

She tucked away other blooming ideas into the back of her mind with a grin. It was reassuring how easy she could envision the future now, especially one so promising. Another home, a place for their family to thrive. They could take their chances, seize the day, but still dare to hope for something better.

As the final preparations were completed, Carol grabbed the front of Daryl's shirt and pulled him down to her. The kiss was soft, but surprised and pleased, he laughed unevenly. She savored the sound and hoped to hear it again.

A part of her was certain she would. That was much more than she could have said two weeks ago when he carried her out of that deadly hospital.

"Alright. I'm ready now," she chimed and drew her weapon. With a nod, Daryl's footsteps fell in time with hers as they walked down the street.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** That's all, folks! It's extremely satisfying to finally finish it. Thanks for reading and going on this trip with me!-randomcat23


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